Painful Journeys
by Goody
Summary: What should have been a normal day for Nick and Greg turns into a painful journey involving friendship, understanding, and violence when past enemies return looking to finish what they started. Complete
1. Unpleasant Reunions

Title: Painful Journeys

By: Goody

Rating: PG-13 for violence and swearing.

Category: Angst, H/C, drama all the good stuff.

Archive: Krazy and whoever else wants it just ask.

Author's Notes: I haven't been able to get this out of my head so I thought I'd share I have the first three chapters done and I'm still going strong so hopefully updates will be pretty regular. This is a Greg and Nick friendship piece, I don't think there are any spoilers and I don't anything worth having except this computer. Take that from me and there won't even be fanfiction. Oh, but I know nothing about football. I picked the teams from the pilot episode when Nick and Greg were talking about their favourite teams. There seems to be a lot of Nick but it really is a Greg angst piece all the way, just wait for it.

Summary: What should have been a normal day for Nick and Greg turns into a painful journey involving friendship, understanding, and violence when past enemies return looking to finish what they started.

* * *

It was a normal night in the CSI crime lab. Technicians ran samples and fingerprints, CSI's pieced together clues, and Nick Stokes walked down the hall towards the blaring music that always echoed throughout the building at this time of night to see his favourite lab tech.

"Greg, please tell me you got good news for me," Nick pleaded as he walked into the DNA lab, pausing the CD player as he came in. He had dropped several samples off a few hours ago and they were his only pieces of evidence in his current case, therefore his only hope of catching the murderer/rapist he was after.

"I do, it seems there is a God because the Backstreet Boys have officially broken up," Greg deadpanned as he stared through his microscope at his own hand. He fiddled with the knob and then pushed the hand in front of Nick's face, pointing to a spot near the knuckle, "Do you think that's a pimple or a cut?"

Nick showed no signs of amusement as he looked briefly and announced, "It's a bug bite, which I hope gets infected. What about my results?"

"Not an ounce of concern," Greg mumbled good-heartedly as he briefly inspected the skin again and then spun once in his chair. "Your results? You mean those _sixteen_ different samples you brought me … four hours ago?"

Nick cringed, he supposed he was kind of pushing it to expect them done already, "Yeah, those ones."

Greg's face lit up though, triumphant as he reached behind him and tossed Nick a folder, "Well in that case, here you go. You got two hits: Thompson and Riker."

"Two? How is that possible?" Nick wondered, sifting through the papers.

But Greg was ready with an answer, "Because, the semen was from two different donors. I ran it again when those results came back, your original sample was from two unknowns, not one like you thought."

"Greg, you're slipping up in your old age," Nick teased, knowing it was rare to catch the lab tech making a mistake. "How did you miss that before?"

"Hey don't look at me, that was my day off; Greg was out of the building. Blame the - half a sample a day, don't touch the printer, where are my Rolaids for God's sake - replacement they had in for me," Greg remarked in defence of his DNA dominance.

But Nick quickly dismissed the error as he considered the new implications to the case.

"So she was raped twice – there's a happy thought," Nick mumbled.

"Or, since it was a seedy hotel, she could have had sex with one and then been raped by the other later," Greg offered, his explanation only slightly less disturbing.

"Yeah, but which one?" Nick asked, thinking aloud.

"That would be your job," Greg pointed out. Nick smiled at his cockiness.

"All right, thanks man," Nick said, heading for the door.

"Hit the play button on your way out," Greg called as Nick passed his CD player.

"Sure," his hand stopped over the button as he remembered, "Are you on break in an hour?"

Greg checked his watch, "Fifty-eight minutes in counting."

"Warrick and I are headed downtown for something to eat, you wanna come?" Nick asked.

Greg considered it only briefly, "Sure, long as you promise not to try and foot me with the bill."

"Why, just cause you did it to me last time? Do I look like a revenge kind of guy to you?" Nick asked with mock innocence.

"I don't know, you do carry a gun," Greg pointed out.

"Fair enough, I'll come and get you when we're going," Nick promised as he hit the play button on the CD player and left the room.

Greg was left with only his thoughts to occupy him once more and he inspected his hand again, "Bug bite my ass, it's not even itchy. Maybe I can run a sample through the GCMS."

But the music soon grabbed his attention and he began to dance around the counters as he returned to running and printing his samples.

* * *

"Greg, you ready?"

Nick leaned into the DNA lab but saw no sign of the spiky haired lab tech, "Greg?"

A hand suddenly shot up from behind the counter, followed shortly by the top of Greg's head, "Hey, just one minute."

Nick came around the counter, laughing as he watched his friend shuffle along the floor looking through each cupboard, slamming it shut and then moving on to the next.

"What are you doing?"

Greg continued looking and replied, somewhat embarrassed, "I uh, can't remember where I hid my coffee."

"That's what you get for being selfish and not sharing with the rest of us," Nick reprimanded, remembering all the times they had been denied access to the Blue Hawaiian blend.

"Not selfish, protective, there's a difference. Aha!" Greg stood up, smiling.

"Find it?"

"Nope, but I remember where it is, and no, I'm not telling," Greg replied, stripping off his lab coat and pulling on his jacket.

"Fine, I guess I'll just keep playing my new PS2 game by myself. It's a lot funner on single player anyway," Nick mused, knowing how to press Greg's buttons.

"You promised me a game," Greg said indignantly, unsure if he wanted to trade his coffee for video games. Nick just shrugged. Greg glared at him and caved, "All right, I'll share. But you tell Grissom and you're dead."

"Yeah, whatever, would you just hurry up, we only got forty-five minutes," Nick reminded him, ushering the younger man out the door.

"Where's Warrick?" Greg asked, shutting off the lights.

"Got called out on a new case," Nick replied.

"Which means he will undoubtedly be returning later with more samples for your very own DNA god to analyse," Greg said cheerfully as they went down the hall.

"Yeah, Hodges should do a great job on them," Nick smirked.

Greg was not amused, "You wound me."

"You'll live, let's go," Nick ushered him outside and towards the towering Tahoe.

"Can I drive?" Greg asked hopefully.

"Suure, and afterwards you can process a crime scene all by yourself," Nick joked, opening the front door.

"About time," Greg agreed sliding in the passenger side.

The Tahoe backed out of the parking lot and moved into the busy Las Vegas streets, its occupants completely unaware of the black car trailing behind them, the pictures being taken, or the plans being made on their behalf.

* * *

A few nights later Nick sat at home, contentedly watching TV. Most of his cases were solved and he had no plans beyond the beer in his hand the remote on his coffee table. But just as he'd settled down the phone rang.

"Just a sec," he called for no reason, knowing he could not be heard by the caller. He snatched the cordless off the charger, "Stokes."

"Hey Nick," the voice on the other end called cheerfully.

"Hey Greggo, what's going on?"

"Not too much, I'm just sitting here, staring at these two pieces of cardboard I got that say 'admission one: Falcons vs. Vikings' you know, the usual," Greg gloated.

Nick's jaw dropped, "You got tickets? How?"

"Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy who … knows a scalper," Greg replied, his voice dropping near the end.

"You're something man, you better not just be calling me to gloat," Nick threatened.

Greg chuckled, "No, unfortunately I'm calling to invite you along. I'd hate to buy a big foam finger and have no one to poke with it. So, can you make it?"

Nick was very relieved he wasn't busy, "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Game starts at two."

Nick wrote it on a pad, "Two o'clock, gotcha."

"Sweet, I'll come and get you then at …" Nick cut him off.

"No, I'll pick you up." He insisted.

"No way, I'm driving, my ride's a classic," Greg said defensively.

Nick laughed, "Greg, I don't care what you say, classic is just a nice way of saying your car is a piece of shit."

"You say tomato, I say shut the hell up," Greg sing songed, very much liking his car. "Anyway, I'll talk to you later, MTV Music awards are starting."

"Kay, see ya tomorrow. Bye." Nick replaced the phone and sunk back down on the couch, very much looking forward to spending the next day with his best friend at a football game. It would be a nice change of pace and he hadn't seen enough of Greg in the past few weeks.

But he would not have been anywhere near as comfortable or relaxed had he known what was being planned for him. As it was, he drank his beer and watched TV, completely unaware of the danger he was constantly in. He did not know that above him, dark eyes watched and listened gleefully, he did not see the cameras and listening devices that had been placed in his home, he did not feel the dark presence that stalked overhead, and he did not know that tomorrow would turn out to be a very, very bad day.

"Soon Nick, we're going to meet again very soon, and then we can be friends again. You don't need any friends but me."

* * *

The next day Nick arrived at Greg's apartment at 1 o'clock, knowing that they needed to get to the game well before kick off. As he parked beside a black cavalier, locked his car and left the parking garage he found that he could not wipe the smile off his face. It had been a few months since he had had a real day off like this, and he reminded himself to thank Greg for inviting him. He hadn't seen his friend enough the last few weeks, outside of work that is. They use to go out for pizza and sometimes drinks after shift, but there had been so many high profile cases the last few weeks that Nick had found little time to get away, not to mention Greg had been glued to his machines, processing endless results for what seemed like endless cases. It would be good to spend time with him again, Nick thought, he missed the constant energy and babble of the younger man. It always amused him in the lab, and he knew today would be fun.

He went up two flights of stairs until he reached Greg's door. He knocked once but then opened the door and walked in, knowing he was always welcome.

"Hey Greggo," Nick called out, trying to find the spiky haired lab tech. Greg peaked his head around from the living room, smiling widely.

"Hey Nick, just a sec, looking for my wallet."

Nick was in no rush, "Take your time."

"Gottit!" he heard from the other room, then Greg emerged, dressed relatively normal but toting with him a huge foam cowboy hat.

Nick stopped him right there, pointing to the offensive, hideous apparel, "You are _not_ wearing that!"

Greg scoffed, "Of course I'm not, and mess up my hair, yeah right."

Nick sighed in relief, that is until Greg shoved the hat on his head, "You're the Texan, you get to wear it."

Nick stood there a moment, not smiling, "You're so lucky I don't have my gun."

Greg held up two ticket stubs, "And you're lucky I'm nice enough to share my sold out tickets. So you wear the hat or you don't get to go."

Nick smiled, then reached out swiftly and grabbed the tickets from Greg's hand, whose face immediately fell.

"Now _I'm_ taking _you,_" Nick smirked, placing the hat gently on Greg's head so as not to damage the gelled spikes, "So wear the hat if you want, but I'm going to the game."

"You just live to ruin my fun, don't you?" Greg asked throwing the hat to the floor as he grabbed his keys and followed Nick into the hallway.

"Just so you know, the Falcons are gonna win this things hands down," Greg taunted once they were in the parking lot. Nick walked ahead of him, eager to leave; he paid no attention to the man in the baseball cap getting out of the black car.

"Keep dreaming, Greg," Nick called out, unlocking the door to the car. He paused, waiting for Greg's reply but heard only a dull thud, followed by a huff and then a louder thump as something hit the concrete, hard. Nick came around the car to the back and was shocked to find Greg face first on the ground, seemingly unconscious, with blood spilling from a gash on his temple and a dark figure looming over him.

"Greg! Get the hell away from him you bastard!" Nick demanded about to rush the strange attacker. He had only gotten a step when he heard the familiar sound of a safety being turned off and stopped short in response. An unwavering gun was suddenly inches from his face, held confidently by an ecstatic Nigel Crane.

"Hello Nick, it's been a long time," Crane smiled, his joy reaching his eyes with sadistic pleasure. This one minute of reunion with Nick brought him more happiness than the entire past week of watching him had, as he waited for the perfect time to re-emerge.

"Crane? Oh my god, how the hell did you get out?" Nick asked in shock.

"You remembered my name, thank you," Nigel said sincerely. "But getting out wasn't that hard, psychiatric facilities are pure chaos. One of my guards got careless; you'd be surprised how much a dead body looks like a sleeping one, and then it's easy to get out once you've got the keys," Crane gloated, hoping Nick would be proud of him.

Nick was too shocked to see his former stalker to really listen and concentrated on making sure he constantly met Crane's eyes in an attempt to draw his attention away from Greg's still motionless form. This man had killed before and was filled with violent delusions, something Nick was desperate to keep Greg from being exposed to.

"What do you want?" he had to ask, though he was not hopeful he would like the answer.

"I want us to take a little trip, hang out," Crane said innocently, smiling. The gun never wavered in his hand though; it seemed that something had happened to him in prison, his delusions had changed somehow. He was no longer nervous or unsure; he was confident and knew exactly what he wanted, and seemed determined to get it. That scared Nick.

"Where do you want to go?" Nick continued, hoping to stall until someone came by, but the parking lot was small and underground, he didn't see another soul.

"That's a surprise, come on," Crane urged, stepping back and indicating Nick should walk forward.

"I don't want to," Nick said calmly, trying to sound friendly and not show any hostility so as not to upset Crane. He was trying to get a feel for the stalker's attitude and determine just how much leverage he had over the psycho, if any.

"Well that's too bad. You were more than eager to spend the day with this pathetic brat," Crane hissed, landing a kick to Greg's ribs but never tearing his eyes off Nick, giving the former cop no opening to tackle him to wrestle the gun away. Nick cringed but that was his only response. In his heart he wanted to rip Crane's throat out but his mind screamed it wasn't possible, not yet, and he also hoped that the less attention he paid to Greg the sooner Crane would leave him alone. "I know you don't have any plans, football's over-rated, so you're free to spend the day with me, your real friend. Cause I know you wouldn't pick this undeserving brat over me."

_Yeah right_, Nick thought, but his mouth said calmly and soothingly, "You're right, I wouldn't."

Nigel smiled, very happy but gun still at the ready, "Good, now get moving."

"All right, just let me check on him," Nick requested, resigned to the fact that Crane would not leave without him. He bent down to check Greg's pulse and breathing, needing to at least know his friend would be all right before he went away with this madman.

"Oh, don't worry, he's coming too."

Nick's head shot up, his fear deepening, "What? Why?"

Crane smiled, "It's a surprise, I'll tell you later."

"No, he isn't part of this Nigel, just leave him," Nick pleaded, desperate to keep Greg uninvolved. This man was dangerous, violent, and psychotically obsessive, none of which were things that Greg had been trained to deal with, or deserved to face, thought Nick.

"Sorry, but he's coming. Here, put these on him," Crane demanded throwing Nick a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

But Nick was firm in trying to keep Greg out of this insane plan, "No, this isn't about him."

"Manners Nick, this is my trip and I want him to come, so you can either cuff him and bring him along or I'll shoot him right now and drag him behind the car." The threat was delivered smoothly, no stuttering or nervousness, verifying Nick's belief that this was a much more dangerous, calculated, Nigel Crane.

Biting his lip in frustration, Nick knew he had no choice.

"Sorry man," he mumbled, pulling Greg's arms behind his back and cuffing them together loosely.

Crane smiled as he took a step back to the trunk of the black car, pulling his keys out with one hand as he held the gun steady and fixed in the other. He turned the keys in the lock and opened the trunk, "Put him inside."

Nick's eyes widened, the trunk was small and he knew, very dangerous, "Why not just put him in the backseat?"

"Because someone could see him and I don't feel like watching the both of you at once, now put him in," Crane demanded, the first tendrils of anger rising in his demeanour.

"He could die," Nick pointed out, also angry.

"He'll definitely die if you don't do it, so which is the better choice?"

Nick had no reply and was forced to push down his own fury as he had to pick up his best friend and place him in the trunk. Greg moaned softly as he was moved. Nick put him down gently and tried to make him comfortable but Nigel was quick to slam the lid of the trunk closed, nearly jamming his fingers.

"Now what?" Nick asked through clenched teeth, knowing and hating that he had just submitted to allowing Greg to be brought along on what was sure to be a horrifying trip.

Crane smiled and tossed Nick the keys, "You drive."

Nick caught them and strode reluctantly to the front seat, his gaze constantly falling to the trunk even as he pulled open the door and sat in the driver's seat. Nigel got in beside him, grinning ear to ear, pleased beyond all reason to be spending the day with Nick. They would be best friends again, he would see to it.

Nick was constantly on watch for Nigel to drop his guard, for the gun to waver in any way, but Crane was focussed and always held the weapon out of arm's reach. Even now it was in his right hand, pointed at Nick and positioned so that if Nick lunged, he would still have time to fire. Now that Greg was out of the psychopath's sight Nick was almost tempted to jump him anyway, fairly confident Crane did not want to shoot him. From his previous behaviour it seemed that Crane worshipped him and wouldn't like hurting him, but he had also thrown Nick out of a second story window – clearly he would do what was necessary to reach his goals.

Clenching his teeth to keep back the biting retort that might get both him and Greg in trouble, Nick pushed in the keys and backed out of the parking lot. He followed Nigel's directions and soon they were heading out of the city and into the desert, and beyond that, only Nigel knew.

TBC

More soon I hope, school is always bringing down the amount of writing time but I really like this fic so I hope to finish it quickly, get it out of my system. I hope you're enjoying, tell me what you like and if there's anything I can improve on. More character thoughts, less character thoughts, more dialogue, I'm open to everything.

Anyway, hope you review, I'll love you … well, I'll certainly like you a great deal at least. I gotta go study for my English exam, Goody.


	2. Heat Waves

I'm glad everyone is enjoying thus far. Thanks to my reviewers, Me, Aurora, NamarieGreenleaf, Rae132, Sillie, yellowvalley, CSIcowboy (great handle BTW), deathchamberX17, white rose01, Kayma, Bree1387, Zoe, Rozzy07, red-raccoon and robinyj.

Sillie – I liked that line too, it's so hard to capture Greg's character in general that just getting one line right seems to be a feat and thanks for reviewing when I know you probably read this at Greg Angst anyway.

Rae132 – I was having a little trouble with MSN so it took me a few tries to get this up at GSAF, so there was a bit of delay, but I would not hold out on the group with the Greg angst.

Anyway, I own nothing but my dreams and they can't take that away from me! So, here's the next chapter of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Greg dreamed he was on a rollercoaster. It had been fun at first, going up and down on the loops, the cart bouncing hard over the tracks, the sun beating down fiercely. But he had stayed on too long. The ride kept going, the tracks kept bumping and his head pounded, blood rushing to his brain as he was flipped upside down, face burning as the sun beat down on the tracks, limbs aching as the cart shuddered and shook. He wanted off, but he was strapped in and the ride wouldn't end. It just kept going, and going until …

He gasped, opening his eyes. He was panting hard, half from the dream and half from the stifling air in the trunk.

_What the hell …_

There was no light that he could see and his head throbbed. He closed his eyes tightly and sunk his face into the rank carpeting, trying to force the pain from his head but it would not relent; it just kept pulsating through his skull like a nail gun going off. He tried to bring up his hands to clutch his temples and panicked when they would not move. Shifting and struggling he could tell he was handcuffed, not tightly but enough that he could not slip through. The bumping and movement confirmed he was in a trunk and from the lack of outside noise not on a very busy street. It must have been the highway or the desert.

His breathing became even heavier as he began to panic, not understanding what was going on. What had happened? He couldn't remember. He and Nick had been on their way to the game, almost to the car. A man walked by and looked at him strangely. He heard Nick call out some insult but before he could reply pain had erupted in his head and then darkness.

Nick!

What had happened to the CSI? Better yet, what had happened to him? He had no idea who would attack him like this and deep down he prayed it was some sort of sick joke, though he doubted it. Needing to know what was going on Greg followed his first impulse and yelled and kicked at the hood of the trunk, demanding answers and not considering the possible consequences of his actions.

* * *

They had been driving for nearly an hour. Nick had plied Crane with questions about where they were going but always Nigel denied him an answer, sometimes he said 'far' other times he just smiled and was silent, so still Nick had no idea what to expect ahead. That was not to say that Crane did not talk, he did, frequently. He asked Nick about work, women, sports, TV, he wanted to know everything about his life even where he bought his shirts. The one thing he did not care about though was Nick's other friends. If he even mentioned Greg or Warrick or Sara Nigel would quickly change the topic, pelting him with more questions, not wanting to hear about those he considered competition for Nick's friendship.

Nick wanted to keep him happy, which he hoped would keep him less violent, but was so frustrated, angry and scared for Greg and himself that his answers came out curt and annoyed most of the time. Nigel didn't seem to care, he had Nick all to himself, it was just like two best friends on an old fashioned road trip, talking and laughing. It was all he ever wanted. But just as he was about to ask Nick his favourite ice cream his fantasy was suddenly dissolved by a loud banging from behind and a muffled voice.

"Hey, what the hell is going on? Let me out of here!" Greg yelled from the trunk, surprising both men in the front.

"Shut up Gregory, we aren't there yet," Nigel called back sternly, flinching with irritation.

"Who the hell are you?" Greg demanded, his voice surprisingly steady. He was scared but he could not see his kidnapper or know the true extent of the danger he was in, making his discomfort and anger able to win out over his fear, causing his defiance.

"Nick, shut him up," Crane hissed, becoming more upset.

Nick knew Nigel could snap easily if he got upset and tried to make him happy, he just prayed Greg would listen, "Greg, it's Nick, you have to be quiet, okay? Nigel Crane is here …"

"Your stalker?" Greg asked, his fear gripping tighter at the revelation that he was being kidnapped by a stalker/murderer. Despite this though he was very relieved to hear Nick's voice, strong and in control; his calm was a comforting reassurance.

"You talk about me, I like that," Crane smiled with satisfaction.

Nick ignored him, more worried about keeping Greg safe, "He's got a gun. I don't know where we're going but just sit tight and be quiet, it'll be all right."

There was a pause and Nick thought Greg had complied, but then his voice returned, still loud but shaky, "Are you okay?"

Nick didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the question. Greg was in the trunk with a head injury and Nick was driving, safe and sound, but it was Greg to first show his concern. Nick wanted to talk to him longer, assure him things would be fine, ask if he was all right in return, but he could see Nigel was turning red from frustration and he had to shut Greg up.

"I'm fine man, just do what he says. _Be quiet_," he repeated forcefully, making sure Greg understood completely.

Greg did understand. He whispered a soft 'Okay' that only he could hear and then turned on his side, trying to get comfortable for what he thought could be a long trip. Crane immediately relaxed, seemingly very pleased that Nick would do whatever he asked.

"Much better. What about actors, I know you like action movies …" Crane continued, not concerned in the least for Greg's safety or comfort now that he was quiet. It seemed Nick could write a biography the length of the bible and it wouldn't be enough for him. Nick on the other hand was very concerned for his friend but could not voice these thoughts. Instead he decided he would keep talking to Crane, keep him happy, and with any luck, come up with a way to stop the bastard eventually, before he hurt anyone else.

The car continued down the road for some time but for Greg the world began to blend together. He could hear Nick and Crane talking in the front. Nigel's voice was bright and enquiring while Nick's responses were short and muffled, clearly not nearly as enthusiastic. Greg tried to listen for awhile if only to keep his mind off the pounding in his head and the sweltering heat he was trapped in. He lived in Las Vegas so he could handle a little sweat, but the trunk was solid, there was no inkling of a breeze from any cracks or through the hood, and as the black car continued down the long stretch of highway, with the hot Nevada sun beaming down on it, the temperature in the trunk continued to rise and rise.

In the front Nick and Crane had their windows rolled down and both still sweated badly. Nick had even mumbled under his breath at one point, "Couldn't steal a car with air conditioning?"

Nigel had turned to him, asking, "What?"

Nick plastered on a fake smile, "Nice car." He beamed and Nigel nodded in agreement. As soon as Crane turned back to look out the window, Nick turned to look in the backseat, straining to hear any sounds from Greg, but the lab tech was true to his word and didn't say anything. Nick almost wished he hadn't shut up as instructed, he longed to hear his voice if only to know he was all right.

Just then Crane opened up the glove compartment and took out two bottles of water, holding one out to Nick, "Thirsty? It's your favourite brand."

"No," Nick replied, beyond angry and completely unable to believe this man. He was kidnapping him and his best friend, all in pursuit of some kind of forced upon friendship. Essentially, he would be killed if he didn't play along, and yet he was worried about his comfort and offering him water. Trying to figure out Crane's reasoning was giving Nick a headache.

But the former cable man just shrugged at his refusal and opened his own bottle. Nick turned around to listen for Greg again, unsure if he heard him breathing deeply or if it was just the car. But this time Crane noticed and did not appreciate the lab rat taking away Nick's attention for any amount of time.

"Stop turning around, he's fine. This is _our_ time. Even if he's not okay it doesn't matter," Crane grumbled. These words did not settle well with Nick, but he said nothing, not wanting to draw the madman's wrath any more.

Nearly a half an hour passed and Greg tried to stay calm, he took short breaths and still didn't talk, but the air kept getting thinner and thinner. There was no circulation in the small space, no fresh air, and the little oxygen he did have was so heavy with humidity he could barely breathe it in. He was starting to panic, panting now, and taking in large, gasping breaths that did little to appease his starving lungs or bring down his body's temperature. He knew he was close to unconsciousness, and if he passed out, and they kept driving for much longer, then he would most certainly die. He needed to call out, to kick open the trunk, do something to save himself before he lost all ability of coherent thought. He had promised Nick he would be quiet, but he knew his silence could kill him and he wanted to live. Decision made, he took in several more deep, heaving breaths and hoped he wasn't about to get himself or Nick killed.

Nigel turned to Nick for what seemed the millionth time, gun still held steady, "What about your family? Tell me about your sisters."

"Not much to tell, I'm betting you already know they're names." Crane nodded. Nick gritted his teeth; Crane had hit a nerve bringing up his family, he hated that this man knew so much about his life and all that he cared about, and he was being forced to tell him even more, "Well, the youngest is …"

Nick was cut off by another banging from the trunk, this one weaker than before. Then Greg's voice called out, dry and strained, "Nick … I can't breathe … I'm sorry, I can't … breathe …"

"Greg, just hold on!" Nick turned to Crane, "Let him out, it must be twice as hot back there as in here."

Crane tightened his grip on the gun, "No."

"He'll die back there," Nick pointed out. Nigel only shrugged, indifferent to the idea.

Nick clutched the steering wheel tightly, turning his own knuckles white, and asked through clenched teeth, "How much further do we have to go?"

"Far," Crane replied, smiling, showing no concern whatsoever even though they could now clearly hear Greg's laboured, desperate breathing in the back. There was another kick against the seat, this one much weaker than the last, but Greg could not find the strength to call out again.

In his mind Nick saw two choices, let Greg suffocate in the trunk, or take action and risk both their lives. He knew he only had one real option and took matters into his own hands. Without warning he pulled the car to the side of the road and put on the brakes. Nigel was immediately outraged, surprised and unsure. This was not part of his plan, it was unexpected. He held the gun on Nick, very willing to shoot him for being out of line.

"What are you doing?!" Crane demanded, now unsteady.

Nick put the car in park and turned to Crane, trying to hide his anger and appeal to any morals the psychopath may have hidden deep inside.

"Look, I don't think you dragged him along just to accidentally kill him on the ride. We haven't seen another car for twenty minutes, just let me go see him and give him some water," Nick pleaded.

Crane was off balance, Nick had surprised him, so he was forced to follow his automatic response, and a reluctant, 'fine' passed his lips. He would allow Nick to see his undeserving little friend until he had time to regroup himself.

Nick was gone in a flash. He grabbed the water he had been offered earlier, pulled out the keys and moved to the trunk of the car.

"Greg? Can you hear me?" he asked. He put a hand on the trunk's surface and was nearly burned; his concern piqued as he imagined how hot it must actually be in there, and what condition Greg was probably in. As he slid the key into the lock, he heard no response from Greg except for the continued harsh breathing. He opened the lid and stepped back at first, letting the fresh air get in. Greg shied away from the light but gasped like he was drowning as the cool oxygen hit his lungs. At first he was overwhelmed and began coughing harshly, the feeling rough against his dry throat, but eventually he grew accustomed to the air and began to breathe easier.

"Oh god, Nick?" he mumbled as the fresh air helped clear his head.

Nick moved in when his breathing had improved and helped pull the younger man into a sitting position, "Just breathe, Greggo, deep breaths, it'll be all right."

Greg looked ragged. His hair was matted down with sweat, so much so that the blood on his temple had not dried but remained a sticky, flowing red. It took a few deep breaths but eventually his breathing returned somewhat to normal.

"Hey man, drink this," Nick instructed, leaning Greg against his chest as he opened the water bottle and brought it to his lips. Greg tried to drink it all but Nick only allowed him small sips, knowing the last thing he needed was for him to get sick by drinking too fast. When half the bottle was gone he poured some over Greg's head, trying to cool him down.

"God Greg, I'm so sorry about all of this. Are you okay? How's the head?" Nick asked quickly, not knowing how long Crane would give him.

Greg nodded, still gasping slightly, "I'm all right, I think, just … confused. How about you?"

"I'm fine, I don't think he wants to hurt me," Nick whispered, his eyes frantically moving between Greg and Crane's door which had yet to open.

Greg looked slightly relieved but also very scared, "Nick, I don't get it … this, this is insane! What the hell does he want?"

"I think, for me to be his friend."

Greg had guessed that but it didn't explain one thing, "And me?"

Nick shook his head, "I don't know, but I'm so sorry you got involved; no way should you be here man, it's not right."

"Don't, I'd rather be here than have you stuck with this guy alone. Do we … do we have a plan?" Greg asked, still very quiet, but also completely unsure of what kind of action this situation called for.

Nick shrugged, hating to disappoint him but he had no ideas at the moment, "For now, stay alive."

Greg nodded sombrely, understanding and taking some more water from Nick. There was another short pause, and then quieter, he asked, "Is he going to kill us?"

In Greg's mind all the case files he had ever read and the pictures of past victims returned to him, all horrible and terrifying and not how he wanted to end up.

"I don't know," Nick admitted softly.

"That's why it's so fun, the ending's a surprise." Crane came around the car, gun still at the ready, fully composed once more. "All right, you've seen him, he's fine. Get back in the car."

Greg shuddered, not accustomed to being threatened at gunpoint. Nick, as was his style, was holding up slightly better under the pressure and felt confident enough to try and make a few more conditions with Nigel.

"Let him sit in the back, no one's going to see him out here," Nick said, trying to reason with him.

"No," Crane said, his smile again switching to irritation.

"Why the hell not?" Nick demanded, his anger overwhelming now.

"Don't Nick," Greg pleaded quietly, not wanting Nick to get hurt over him. He could survive the trunk a little longer if it would keep them both alive.

Suddenly Crane took a dangerous step forward, the safety of the gun clicking off once more, but it did not turn to Nick, instead the barrel was placed inches from Greg's temple. Greg's breathing hitched and he tried to turn away but there was nowhere to go.

Nick's fury was immediately wiped away to be replaced by cold fear as Crane clearly flipped over from friendly to psychotic, threatening Greg's life.

"This is _our_ trip! You're _my_ friend, this is _our_ time! He's a distraction, he keeps you from caring about anyone else, and I won't allow it!" Crane's expression turned darker and Nick leapt at him when he saw his arm began to move, but instead of firing, Nigel brought the butt of the gun down hard against the side of Greg's face. The young man grunted as he fell back and his head struck the metal siding hard before he hit the trunk floor, once again unconscious.

"Bastard, don't touch him!"

Even though he had not shot Greg, Nick continued his lunge at Crane, tackling him to the ground. They fought for the gun, rolling on and off the road, kicking up clouds of dust. Nick thought he would have had the strength advantage but Crane had put on some muscle since he went to prison and they were almost evenly matched. Nick punched the psychopath across the jaw but Nigel brought up a knee and hit him in the stomach. While Nick was leaned over slightly, Crane managed to pull his gun hand free and struck the CSI in the cheek with the butt of the handle. Nick fell to the side and Crane rolled on top of him, gun at the ready. After the shock wore off Nick tried to attack again, bringing up a fist but Crane had the gun held steady, aimed and fired.

The fight immediately left Nick as the bullet hit the ground next to his head. Nigel had purposely missed, shooting a foot and a half away from his head, but something in his eyes told the other man he would not miss again if forced to fire once more. Nick was deafened for a moment and disoriented as Crane stood up and motioned for him to stand as well. Nick stood slowly, defeated for now but still defiant in his heart.

"Manners Nick, manners, that wasn't nice," Crane said spitefully, fuelled with disappointment and anger. He held the gun up again, now aimed between Nick's eyes, "Get. Back. In. The. Car."

Nick raised his hands in the air, breathing heavy and heart pounding. Crane was serious, something in him may have snapped and a wrong move now could cost them both their lives. Nick was desperate to stop this madman and would fight him to the end, but he also needed to try and keep Greg safe and unfortunately that meant submitting to Nigel's demands. He took a final look at Greg, saw he was breathing, and slowly backed away towards the front seat. From the door he could hear Crane moving around but with the trunk popped up could not see what he was doing. That's when his pocket shook. Reaching down, he pulled out his cell phone which had been set on vibrate and, turning his back to Crane, checked the caller ID.

Grissom.

Meanwhile, Crane shoved the gun into the back of his jeans and turned his attention to his burden. He unceremoniously shoved Greg's legs back into the trunk but just to ensure there would be no more interruptions he picked up a role of duct tape which was back there as well and tore off a strip, roughly placing it over Greg's mouth.

"That'll shut you up."

Nick looked at the phone, it could be their salvation or ruin. There was no way he could talk to Grissom, Crane would hear and probably see, but with his new and improved hearing, Grissom should be able to hear them though. Keeping the phone at his side, Nick flipped the top open and kept it from sight, but shouted behind him.

"Crane, leave him alone!"

Nigel had finished taping Greg's mouth and stood, closing the trunk and locking him in once more.

"Little brat won't be a bother anymore," he mumbled, striding towards the passenger side, his good mood ruined. "I said get back in the car!"

"Where are we going now Nigel?" Nick asked, perhaps a bit too loud but he had to be sure Grissom could hear.

"Same as before, Nick, straight ahead," Crane said, taking his seat.

Nick nodded, prayed, dropped the phone on the ground while it was still open, and got into the driver's seat. Taking the keys back from Crane, he started the car once more and continued down the long stretch of highway to their unknown destination.

TBC

Where the hell are they going? Well, I know, but I bet you're in the dark. You'll find out next time though, hope to catch you there. Goody


	3. You Can Never Go Back

Sigh. Well, it was bound to happen: filler chapter. Not a lot of action in this one but I'm sure you'll understand that it's crucial to the plot. Hope you'll still enjoy it and many thanks to all my fab reviewers thus far. Each one's a lovely little early Christmas present.

Painful Journeys

By Goody

"Nick, can you hear me? Can you talk Nick?"

Grissom listened again, no longer hearing any voices on the other end of the phone. It sounded like car doors were closing, an engine started, and the car pulled away.

"Nick?" Grissom asked a final time, louder than before, but there was no response. Clearly the car was gone, but the phone was still on, Grissom could hear the wind and dirt shifting, and no dial tone had started yet. For a moment he stood shocked, staring at the phone in his hand. Had that really been Nigel Crane's voice? Was Nick really with him? The implications alone were enough to deeply worry Grissom, but he knew he had no time to contemplate his emotions, he needed to act. He stepped out of his office and headed down the hallway, phone still in hand.

He had come in to work off the clock after having a revelation about one of his current cases while he was home. After Grissom got to the lab he had retested several samples from the crime scene, the results of which closed the case. He had called Nick, who had been working with him on it, to tell him they caught the guy, and had instead heard a strange, yet terrifying, conversation take place.

_"Crane, leave him alone!" Nick had yelled before Grissom could even say hi. As ice water filled his veins Gil had hoped it was some sort of sick joke, but knew deep down that Nick's tone was extremely serious and he would never pull such a dangerous stunt._

_After a few seconds of muffled background noise, the next voice he heard confirmed his fears. The angry voice of Nigel Crane, stalker, murderer and supposed to be inmate, had yelled at Nick, "I said get back in the car!"_

_Nick continued, clearly loud so Grissom would hear and understand, "Where are we going now Nigel?"_

_Crane was more collected with his reply, "Same as before Nick, straight ahead."_

_And then they were gone._

Now, Grissom still held the phone to his ear, listening closely but having little hope of hearing anything else. Nick's cell had clearly been left behind, most likely for fear of discovery but it could also work as a tracking device. No matter, he had reached his destination, the tech lab. Grissom knew he should call Brass and his team but he also knew that he had to do this first; there was no telling how long Nick's batteries may survive.

"Archie, drop whatever you're doing, you got a new first priority," he called out as he rushed in uncharacteristically. Archie paused the tape he had been enlarging and turned to Grissom.

"What do you need?" he asked, always eager.

"The cell phone I'm connected to right now, I need to run a trace and find out _exactly_ where it is," Grissom explained holding out his own cell phone and hoping Archie would have the necessary equipment with him.

Archie thought for a moment and then nodded, "Okay, give me the phone."

He took the cell from Grissom and plugged it into his laptop, bringing up the caller information. Then he typed in a few commands and sat back to wait a moment as the system did its job.

"You're lucky the connection's open, if you tried this after you were cut off the location wouldn't be near as precise. Whose phone are we tracking anyway?" Archie asked, assuming it was a killer or suspect of some kind.

"Nick's," Grissom replied. Archie turned to him confused and opened his mouth to ask a question but Grissom cut him off, "I can't tell you anything yet, I'm not sure myself, but this trace may save his life if I'm right."

"Okay," Archie said slowly, unsure of how to handle this information. "But I thought he was at a football game with Greg."

Gil's heart skipped a beat; he hadn't known this, "Are you sure?"

"That's what Greg told me."

Grissom remembered what Nick had first called out over the phone.

_"Crane, leave him alone!"_

So if Nick was supposed to be at a football game with Greg, and was now in the hands of Nigel Crane, then it was very possible that the _him_ Nick had mentioned was actually Greg, which meant the stakes had just doubled and not one but two of his team members were in very real danger.

As Grissom contemplated this, a map of Las Vegas appeared on Archie's screen; three red lines formed a large triangle that got progressively smaller as Archie typed in more commands. Eventually the triangle changed into a dot and they had an exact location.

"There it is, highway 108, it hasn't moved since the call was initiated," Archie reported.

Grissom nodded, "Good work, print me off a copy." He picked up his phone, "Can you do any more with this?"

"No, you can take it. The other phone's on so even if it moves I can track it from satellite now that I know where it is."

"Great, keep an eye on it, call me if there's any movement," Gil ordered as he left the lab, in a greater rush than ever. He flipped open his cell and dialled a familiar number.

"Brass."

"It's Grissom, we have a serious problem. I think Nigel Crane is on the loose and he's already got two possible next victims," he reported automatically, pushing aside his fear for his team mates in exchange for the professional manner that always helped him through tough cases.

"Shit, is it Nick?" Brass asked on the other end.

"And Greg."

"Sanders? All right, I'll be right in. Call the rest of your team together," Brass suggested, knowing it was probably Grissom's next move anyway.

"I will, but I need you to call in a helicopter. I've got a possible last location, only minutes old, if we can move fast maybe we can end this quickly," Grissom said, sounding confident in his findings thus far.

"No problem, fill me in when I get there," Brass said and hung up, the sound of a door slamming as he left his house the last thing Grissom heard before the dial tone.

Sighing, Grissom moved into his office, knowing he had a lot more troubling phone calls to make.

* * *

Nick didn't recognize the road they were on. After their quarrel on the side of the road they had stayed on the highway for only ten more minutes or so until Crane had ordered him to take an exit leading to what appeared to be a little used trail through a sloping tract of desert land. The going was slow and bumpy and Nick cringed as they drove over each dip in the road, picturing Greg unconscious in the trunk being thrown around violently. He tried to focus on the road and make the ride as smooth as possible, but his head and ears still pulsed with a throbbing pain from Crane hitting him and he was very thirsty, though he in no way regretted giving his portion of water to Greg. 

After his concern for Greg, Nick mostly felt angry, though he could hardly show it. Crane was a madman, and having him show up to screw his life up once had been enough, but now he was back a second time, and endangering his best friend as well, which increased Nick's ire. He looked at the man beside him; Crane stared straight ahead, able to see Nick out of the corner of his eye. He had calmed considerably and the annoying smirk had returned to his face, indicating he had returned to his happy state where he was simply content to be spending time with Nick, even though they no longer spoke at lengths. To Crane it was a companionable silence and just as good, a sign of development in their friendship but Nick despised the man next to him. Logically he knew Crane had a psychological problem, caused by early trauma in his life, but that did not mean Nick had to forgive him for the crimes he had committed, or the ones he was doing right now.

It was twenty minutes until Crane did speak; he was moving around anxiously in his seat, excited in a childish sort of way, "We're almost there Nick, I can't wait to show you."

Nick couldn't help asking, "Show me what, where are we going?"

"You'll have to wait, but you'll like it, then maybe you'll understand. I know you want to, but you won't until you see, until I can explain." That was all Crane would say on the subject but his mood was still anxious and he could barely contain his happiness.

They went around a turn in a cliff face and Nick thought they had reached their destination. There were two rows of houses in front of him, run down, clearly uninhabited, only about twelve in all. The narrow road ended past the houses and there stood a dilapidated warehouse, surrounded by a high iron fence with barbs on the top. It had probably been the manufacturing site for some sort of dangerous materials, judging by its size and location so far from the city. It looked as though the workers had been forced to live nearby in case of emergency, but now that it was shut down the real estate was worthless and abandoned, and completely isolated. Seemingly perfect for Nigel's plan, whatever that may be.

"Nice place," Nick mumbled sarcastically as he looked over the rundown extravaganza.

"It was once," Crane replied, sounding almost nostalgic. "Now it's just lonely; it has no one to care for it, no one to be there or admire it. There's nothing. Pull into the third house on the left, it's my favourite."

Nick looked at him strangely but did not question him as he pulled into the third driveway.

"Get out, there's so much I have to show you." Crane almost sounded like a child inviting a friend over to his house for the first time, but his tone still demanded compliance as the gun never wavered in his grasp. Nick took a deep breath and got out of the car as Crane did the same. Once outside Crane motioned for him to walk ahead, "Come on Nick, inside."

"I'm coming," Nick assured him but could not completely keep his gaze from straying to the back of the car once more. Greg was still locked in the trunk and the sun was still beating down strongly on the abandoned neighbourhood.

Crane noticed the shift in his attention and flinched but his good mood could not be completely wiped away, "Gregory will be joining us shortly, don't worry, now get inside."

Nick wasn't sure if this information eased him or not but he drew his gaze away from the car and led the way into the faded baby blue home, with Crane only a few feet behind with the gun held steadily aimed at his back. The door creaked as Nick pushed it open and took a cautious step inside. The house seemed normal enough; there was a ragged old couch that had been nice once, a dust layered carpet and a bare coffee table. Looking further he saw a grimy kitchen, complete with yellowed fridge and stove, he saw he was also standing on a welcome mat in front of the door. The house would have been quaint when it was lived in but it looked as though the family that lived there had suddenly picked up and moved out, taking only the barest essentials with them.

"What did you want to show me?" Nick asked, seeing nothing of interest in the two front rooms.

Crane smiled, almost shyly and whispered, "Up the stairs."

Nick followed his line of sight and saw a staircase emerged from the far wall; he stepped further into the house and started up them. The steps creaked but felt sturdy enough to hold him. When he reached the top of the stairs he saw three rooms, to his left was a large, open room with a double bed, dirty sheets and floor, but also a large dresser; it was a room a couple would sleep in. The next door led to a plain bathroom but the third room drew Nick's attention. The door was closed so he could not see inside but on the outside a framed plaque stood out sharply and in a child's hand the words "Nigel's Room" were sprawled in crayon.

Nick turned to Crane, "This was your house?"

Nigel nodded, "I grew up here. Let me show you my room." His voice again echoed that of an excited child.

"All right."

They continued up the stairs and Nick reached for the doorknob to the room, pausing briefly as he saw the heavy lock on the door, years old but still appearing functional. The lock was on the outside, meaning that whoever got locked in couldn't get out themselves. Why did he have a feeling he wouldn't like what he found out about Nigel's past in this room?

He pushed open the door and stepped through. The only light came from a single window on the far wall, but that was not great due to the metal bars over the glass, blocking out half the light. The bed was a mattress on the floor, no bedposts or headboard, and there was a single blanket, with no sheets or pillows. In fact there were no luxuries of any kind; not a single toy or shelf of pictures or keepsakes. A large dresser mirror stood out, leaned up against the left wall, but it was new and clean, meaning Nigel had probably put it there recently himself. That meant he had planned this for some time and Nick wondered what the purpose of all this could be.

He continued to look around; the closet had a meagre amount of clothes but the largest attention grabber was the walls, plastered with childish drawings in crayon, some dark with a single lonely child, preserved perfectly, others bright with many children playing happily; these pictures were torn and placed haphazardly on the wall. Nick took in the room for a moment, amazed a child could live here for any length of time and for the first time he felt the smallest inkling of sympathy for the tormented child that had become a psychopath.

"So … this was your room?"

"Yeah, just me. Mom and Dad were over there, they didn't like to play much, I mostly kept to myself. But now you're here Nick, we're friends, and it won't be so lonely," Nigel said happily, but then he seemed to recall something he'd forgotten and he was saddened. "Well, you're not really my friend, not yet."

Nick didn't like where this was going so tried to please him and replied soothingly, "Sure I am Nigel. Hey, I came all this way, saw your house, we talked, it's been a pretty good day."

But Crane shook his head, gun still clenched tightly, "You're lying, it's all right. You don't understand yet that you don't need any friends but me. You don't understand _me_ yet. You will, I'll show you. Now sit down, over there." He pointed to the far wall with the window, underneath which sat a rusty radiator. Nick sighed and walked over, cringing when he saw spots of dried blood on the metal. What had Nigel gone through as a kid?

"Sit down," Crane repeated.

Nick turned to face him but did not yet comply, "Why don't you just show me now so I can understand and we can be friends now?" he requested, trying to please Crane, but the murderer shook his head, he would not allow it.

"I can't, not yet. Now sit down," his voice became hard again on the last words, as if his fantasy was breaking apart and the gun was brought closer. Nick had no choice, he sat down on the floor beside the radiator. "Hold up your hands."

Crane took another pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. Nick knew what was coming and thought he may be able to get the gun any second; Nigel would have to be close to cuff him and his attention would be divided. But Nick's plan was ruined when Crane unexpectedly hit him hard across the face again with the gun. He was stunned and slumped against the wall for a moment, waiting for the pain behind his eyes to lessen and his vision to correct itself. Vaguely he could feel cold metal snapping in place around his wrist; he tried to pull away but Crane was focussed. The second cuff first passed through the metal piping of the radiator and then snapped around Nick's second wrist, locking him in place.

"I'm sorry, but I know you so well Nick, I knew you would try to get away. You'll understand soon though, don't worry," Crane said again, watching as Nick regained his senses.

It was a moment before Nick could concentrate but then he immediately pulled at the cuffs with all his considerable strength. Unfortunately, the cuffs were strong as was the radiator; nothing budged.

"Crane, what are you doing? Let me go," he demanded, the cold fear that had somewhat diminished as Crane became less violent quickly resurfaced and Nick was scared.

"I already told you Nick, I'm making you understand. Now wait just a minute while I go and get Gregory, we'll need him too," Crane said smiling as he began to leave the room.

Nick pulled on the cuffs again, harder than ever, "Nigel, wait! Crane, don't hurt him, please! He's not a part of this! Nigel!" he called but Crane was already down the stairs and almost to the door.

"Dammit!" Nick exclaimed when he was gone. Experiencing a strange combination of fear and anger he dropped his head tiredly against his knees and held back a sob of frustration.

"God, don't hurt him," he whispered futilely one last time, doubtful his wish would come true but praying for the best.

* * *

Grissom looked at the faces gathered around the conference table, all grim and yearning for more than the meagre details they had been given over the phone. Almost all of them had received the same cryptic phone call, "We've got a serious situation, come into the office immediately" and none of them knew what it was about. 

Their supervisor's tone had been enough to speed the three CSIs out the door though and now Sara, Warrick and Catherine sat waiting impatiently for whatever news Grissom had for them.

"Where the hell is Nick so we can start this?" Sara mumbled, assuming his absence was the cause for the delay.

Grissom sighed and straightened, never one to play coy, he went straight out and said what he knew, "Nick isn't coming, that's why you're here. I have reason to believe Nigel Crane is on the loose once more and has kidnapped Nick and possibly Greg."

Three stunned faces looked at him.

"What?" exclaimed Warrick in disbelief.

"Care to explain?" Sara asked incredulously.

"About forty-five minutes ago I tried to call Nick and when his cell phone picked up I heard a conversation between him and Nigel Crane, they argued briefly and then there was the sound of a car pulling away as the phone was left behind. It sounded like there was a third person with them as well, which was probably Greg. He and Nick were supposed to go to a football game and I haven't been able to get a hold of Greg either. Archie managed to track the cell phone's location to highway 108. Brass has a chopper heading out there now to do a long range sweep, it's possible they'll find something but as of yet they don't know what they're looking for. Our job now is to help them any way possible."

"Oh my god," Sara mumbled as she took this all in.

"Did Nick sound like he was all right?" Catherine asked, voicing everyone's concern.

"Nick sounded fine, remember Crane practically idolizes him, but it seemed as though they were fighting about Greg. But at this point there's no telling what condition either of them are in," Grissom replied, not sugar coating the truth.

"Do we know what Crane wants?" Warrick asked, contemplating ransom demands or revenge.

"Last time he wanted to become Nick himself, or at least be his friend, but he's been in therapy the past few years, there's no telling how his delusions may have changed," Grissom surmised, feeling confident that Crane's motives had changed slightly since their last encounter with him.

"How did we not know Nigel Crane was on the loose?" Sara asked, outraged they had not been told, for everyone's protection.

"I'd rather know how the hell they got tickets to the game," Warrick mumbled, but was equally as shocked and concerned for his friends as the others.

"I don't know, but it's our job to find out, _everything_," Grissom reminded them then started handing out tasks. "Sara grab your stuff, you're going with Brass in the chopper to check out whatever they find. Warrick, you're checking out Nick's apartment, Catherine, you're with me, we're taking Greg's apartment. Don't forget about video surveillance of hallways, lobbies, parking lots, all of it. Right now we are racing the clock; we lucked out time wise, we found out they were taken very early, now we have to find them just as fast. Make it happen."

With that the group split up, each member eager to find the one clue or piece of information that could lead them to their team mates. Everyone was concerned but they were also professionals, they would continue to work, despite their emotions. But none would deny that this case was personal, perhaps more so than any they had ever worked before. The one thing they all knew though was that they would get Nick and Greg back, in what condition was anyone's guess.

TBC

So there's the filler, but if you're looking for Greg angst you're going to looooooove the next chapter. Trust me, absolutely looooove it! We'll get to the nitty gritty next time and it's going to be good, just like me, Goody


	4. Memory Lane

Ah, so you're all hankering for the angst are you? Then it's time for the Big Mac of angst chapter. Hope it's enough to tide you over.

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Technically Greg had been awake for more than ten minutes. The constant jarring of the car had roused him into consciousness but the combination of his concussion and the relentless heat he was still exposed to kept him in a state much like a waking dream. His eyes were open but his thoughts came slowly, muffled. He wondered where he was, but even in his hazy state he knew he was having difficulty breathing. The air was as thick as ever and now because of the duct tape on his mouth he could only breathe through his nose. He shifted uncomfortably, instinctively knowing he wanted out but unable to figure out how.

The car eventually stopped, as did the bouncing, and Greg felt his eyes start to droop once more in sleep. He hoped Nick would be there when he woke up and they could go to the football game but a small voice, way in the back of his mind, reminded him he would not be waking up again if he let himself fall asleep now. After realizing this he struggled towards consciousness for a minute, breathing deeply through his nose and pushing open his eyes, but the fight did not last long as his air continued depleting and the heat kept rising. Just as his eyes had closed and his breathing became shallow as his body gave up its fight for air, the trunk popped open once more.

Greg was immediately awake, more alive, as the cool air hit him and he looked up to see a figure outlined in sunlight. He had been too disoriented to hear the two men leave the car earlier, or the one return, so he was shocked by his appearance. The fresh oxygen immediately hit his lungs again and he yearned to breathe deeply, but the duct tape over his mouth denied these impulses. Still, his head cleared quickly and he recognized the unpleasant form of Nigel Crane standing before him. The stalker/murderer was smiling happily and Greg thought he preferred the scowl from before; that he at least understood, or so he thought.

"Time to play your part Gregory, Nick's waiting," Nigel cooed, reaching into the trunk and latching on to the collar of Greg's shirt. The lab tech was still gasping for air when Crane forcibly pulled him out of the trunk. Greg tried to stand but his legs refused, his muscles were loose from inactivity and lack of oxygen and he slumped against the side of the car.

"Move!" Crane ordered, not releasing Greg's collar as he pushed him forward, his voice becoming irritated. Greg's head was clearing as he took in more air but his mind was still hazy for a few moments. He had understood that Crane said he was taking him to Nick and he hoped that was true; he longed to see the CSI, to make sure he was okay, and, somewhat selfishly, to be reassured by his presence. He had no desire to be left alone with this psychopath or have to suffer whatever these 'plans' were by himself and he knew he would be stronger with Nick there.

Eventually Crane began to pull him along the driveway, not satisfied with Greg's slow progress. He stumbled into the house and tripped twice on the stairs and always Crane yanked him forward, choking him and depleting his already limited air.

_Let me go!_ Greg screamed in his own mind since he could not voice these thoughts. He pulled back to try and stall so he could get his footing and catch his breath but Crane just took out his gun once more, ending his protests, and dragged him faster.

"You really should have been ready Gregory, you've been waiting all day to play this part after all," Crane mocked as he pulled the battered younger man along.

_I was also unconscious most of the day, psycho._

By the time they reached the top of the stairs Greg was out of breath once more. At first he concentrated on breathing but then he heard Nick's voice and his head shot up, hope momentarily replacing fear. The CSI stood handcuffed to a radiator in what appeared to be some sick mockery of a child's room. His face was bruised and his wrists looked like they might be bleeding from the handcuffs but other than that he seemed fine, which Greg was beyond relieved to see.

Nick on the other hand was not so pleased. He was thankful that Greg seemed alert and in one piece after their horrific journey to this place but he was also scared beyond reason about what exactly Nigel had planned. Clearly it involved Greg somehow playing a part in making Nick understand Crane better, and he didn't want to imagine what that could mean, though he feared he would soon see for himself.

Crane hurried into the room and dropped Greg unceremoniously on the floor in front of Nick, knocking the wind out of him since he could not brace himself for the fall in any way. Greg moaned and focussed on the floor, trying futilely to forget their situation.

"Greg! Shit," Nick exclaimed, his anger again rising as he watched Crane toss the lab tech down carelessly.

"Sorry I had to leave you alone for a minute Nick, no one should have to be alone but I need to make you understand, and we need him for that. It's about all he's good for," Crane said sincerely, thoughtfully as he pushed the still gasping Greg onto his back with his foot. Greg dare not move while in the psychopath's gaze, terrified of what might come next.

Nick wished Crane would stop saying that, stop insisting that he 'understand' him, but instead he set aside his anger and pleaded for Greg once more, hoping to get through to Crane somehow, "Nigel please, just let him go. I understand, okay? I see this room and how you must have lived, and I'm sorry for you, I'd love to be your friend but you have to let Greg go."

Nick hated to show this much emotion in front of anyone, he felt like he was baring his soul, but this was the greatest fear he had ever known as he watched Crane tower over Greg's small form and he would do anything to escape it.

On the floor, Greg struggled to pull in enough air to please his lungs, but he also turned to face Nick, hoping he could convey his words in a glance. Nick met his gaze and he tried to squash his fear and look hopeful, reassuring, like he was prepared for whatever was to come and held no blame or anger towards his friend. Nick saw this and understood but his own eyes reflected only sorrow and regret.

Their brief moment was cut short though as Nigel spoke once more, sad but also angry at Nick's audacity and moving to stand only inches from his face, "How can you say that? You don't understand anything! You haven't _seen_ anything! You don't know how I lived, how I came to be. This room, these walls, they can't speak. Only _I_ can show you, make you understand what it was like to _be_ here, to _live_ like _this_," in his rising temper he suddenly kicked Greg hard in the ribs, eliciting a yelp from the smaller man. All coherent thought seemed to leave the murderer as he continued violently, "the pain," another kick, "the isolation," another to the back, "the loneliness! You didn't see any of it!"

"Then draw me a god damn picture you son of a bitch, just leave him the hell alone!" Nick demanded, fury and despair crushing his soul with each blow inflicted on Greg's body. He pulled and tore at the cuffs, desperate to come to Greg's aid, but they would not give and he was forced to watch his friend suffer. "Greg, goddammit! Stop it you bastard!"

But Crane ignored or could not hear him.

Greg tried to roll away but had come up against a wall, preventing escape. Crane's mind and body were becoming trapped in the horrible memory of his life and he took the lab tech by the hair and threw him into the wall, holding him up with a hand on his throat.

"Pain was constant, every day. It was a reward for being bad," Nigel punched Greg across the face, "for being good," he kneed him in the stomach, "it was a reward for doing absolutely nothing!" Greg wanted to collapse to the floor but his attacker held him up, determined to hurt him, to show them both how his life had been. Suddenly Crane took him by the collar and launched him across the room; Greg slammed side first into the door jamb and heard something pop in his shoulder. He lay on the floor for a moment in agony, moaning and fighting tears, and then he screamed behind his gag, mentally begging for a reprieve as Crane picked him off the floor by the injured arm and the broken bones grinded against one another. He tried to pull away but Crane's grip was strong and his delusional state even stronger.

"Stop Nigel, please, I had it rough as a kid too, I get it, but Greg's not responsible. You don't have to hurt him! Just leave him alone, _tell_ me what happened, I'll understand," Nick yelled, desperate to draw this monster's attention away from Greg, but Crane continued on, determined to finish his story. He dragged his captive towards Nick, towards the barred window in the wall.

"I could see the whole word through this window," Crane said spitefully, then slammed Greg's head into the steal bars on top of the glass. Greg was thrown back on the floor, a new cut dripping blood down his forehead as he lay moaning and gasping, struggling to breathe through the duct tape on his mouth. "I could see the other children in the neighbourhood, I could see the other parents, but I couldn't be a part of that. I was in here, alone! … this is what my life was like … this is what you _have_ to _understand_."

Crane kicked Greg onto his side and then crossed the room. Nick watched in horror, listening to Greg's harsh breathing as Crane picked up a baseball bat from the closet, walked over slowly, swinging it leisurely once and then brought it high above his head.

"Nigel no!"

Without another word Crane struck Greg hard across the back as he tried to rise off the floor, immediately sending him back down with a muffled groan.

_Nick, help! Make this stop!_ Greg screamed in his mind. He knew the CSI could do nothing, and it wasn't his fault, but he wanted the pain to stop. He had faced enough pain in his life and he knew this wasn't fair, yet still it didn't stop. The pain continued and he felt each blow as clearly as the first.

"I was always alone! I could see them! I could watch but I couldn't leave! No one ever saw me, or cared! I had no one! No one!" Each revelation brought with it another strike of the wooden bat, landing fast and hard. Every small breath of air Greg managed to take in was immediately knocked out of him and he thought he may suffocate while being beaten. He wanted to run but instinct made him curl in on himself, and Crane was so far gone in his torment that most of the blows fell to his back and legs, causing minimal damage but memorable pain.

Behind him Nick pleaded, still trying to reason with the monster, "No, don't, please! Greg, oh my god. You're gonna kill him, you son of a bitch, stop, please! It wasn't him! For God's sake, stop it! I understand, just don't hurt him anymore, I understand!"

Suddenly Nigel seemed to snap back to reality and the bat fell to his side. Greg coughed and moaned, somehow managing to roll over weakly in a desperate attempt to escape. Every inch of his body ached, his shoulder felt like it was being stabbed every time he moved it, and he felt at least two ribs give way when he tried to breathe and he knew they were broken, but most of all he was afraid. Crane was a madman and clearly he wasn't opposed to hurting him, so what would keep him from killing him? Greg couldn't think of anything, he just knew he didn't want to die.

Nick thought he had gotten through to the former cable man and with tears prickling his eyes he continued, "I understand, I'm your friend Nigel, I'll stay with you, but you have to leave him alone, please, for me."

But no comprehension appeared on Crane's face. He was lost in a different memory, thinking back. His gaze strayed to the mirror in the far corner, the one he had brought there and was as yet untouched. It was tall and wide, glistening slightly in the few rays of sunlight that made it into the room.

"I use to have a mirror once," Crane began, speaking in even tones, processing the memory and barely noticing his surroundings, "I could see myself in it and picture other people were with me too, my friends. I could see them, I could always see them in there with me. I knew they were there, in the mirror and that was my only way to get to them. Then Dad came up one night, angry … I hadn't put away my toys. I never had any toys. He tore my pictures and … then he broke it." His voice become deeper, filled with dark emotions. "It shattered and they were gone. He took them away." Nigel stood for a moment, his anger simmering and his fists clenching as he remembered everything, and then with calculated steps he turned back to Greg who had managed to reach the far wall and lean against it, trying to recover he was still gasping, and his eyes widened as Crane approached.

"Nigel no! Stop! It wasn't him, it was your father! It's not his fault! Don't touch him," Nick continued pleading but Crane's steps did not slow.

He took Greg by the shirt collar, ignoring his weak struggle to escape, and then seemed to explode. "He took them away! They never came back! They were gone! I couldn't find them! It wasn't fair!" Snarling, he threw the helpless lab tech headfirst into the mirror.

Glass shards scattered everywhere, beautiful and dangerous as they filled the air and floor. Greg fell to the ground, glass cutting his face and arms, more imbedding into his torso and back as he landed and rolled. He screamed behind his gag as he felt his shoulder pop farther out of place, taking with it bone and muscle, tears marked his cheeks.

Behind him, Crane deflated. All his anger and torment seemed to have been released in these moments of revelation and violence, and hot tears streamed down the psychopath's face as he fell to his knees in despair for his own sad life.

Finally there was Nick. He had also dropped to his knees, emotionally exhausted and drained; he had seen all he could handle of the life of Nigel Crane. He watched Greg shift painfully on the floor, wondering how unconsciousness had not claimed the younger man, and whispered his apologies.

"Greg, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry ..."

In that small room of past and present torture all eyes shed tears.

* * *

Silence dominated in the Tahoe as Catherine and Grissom made their way to Greg's apartment, each lost in their own worry and concern for their team mates. They had seen an unnatural amount of death and violence in their line of work, more than any normal person would see in their lifetime, and this gave their imaginations the horrible fodder it needed to picture Nick and Greg in a wide variety of dangerous and terrifying situations while in the hands of Nigel Crane.

Grissom looked at Catherine, worried for her. She was a strong parent figure to the younger CSIs and he knew she had a maternal protectiveness of them, making the entire situation all the more hard on her. Needless to say it had not been easy for her to handle the guilt of blowing up the lab and Greg, the youngest and most innocent member of their team and this would not bode well with her either. He was about to ask if she was all right when his phone rang, it was Sara.

"Please tell me you found something," Grissom answered, trying hard not to hope too much. Sara's sigh was not a good sign though.

"We found Nick's cell phone right where Archie tracked it, it hasn't been touched. There are some skid marks and tire tracks in the dirt, looks like they pulled over pretty suddenly but there's no sign there was damage like a flat tire. The skid marks are straight, no swerving so I don't think it was a struggle for control of the car. The dirt's unsettled near the back of where the car was parked, looks like there was a struggle, I got one drop of blood, other than that I can't tell you much."

"All right, come on back in when you're done, I need you to start researching Crane after you get everything processed. What about Brass?" Grissom asked.

"He's up in the chopper, they're going to do an overhead for awhile but they have no idea what they're looking for Gris. We don't have the make of the car or any idea where Crane could be headed out here," Sara reminded him dismally.

"I know, we'll find something, call me if you learn anything else."

"No problem," Sara said and then hung up.

Grissom turned to Catherine, his expression telling her enough, but said, "Sara didn't find much except for Nick's phone. Some tire tracks and signs of a struggle, Brass is still searching in the chopper."

"Is there any hope he'll find anything?" Catherine asked.

Grissom hated that he had to shake his head, "They don't even really know what to look for."

They had reached Greg's building and were pulling into the parking lot. Catherine sat up in her seat when a car in the lot caught her eye, "Greg's car is still here."

Grissom looked too, "And so is Nick's."

They both knew what that likely meant. They got out of the Tahoe and slowly approached the crime scene, eyes on the ground. The small collection of blood near the back tire of Nick's wheel confirmed their suspicions.

"This is where he grabbed them," Catherine announced, able to see how it played out all too clearly. Grissom agreed and looked up, spotting a camera overlooking the lot.

"I'll process this, go see the landlord and find out about getting the tapes for that camera, then we'll move into the apartment," Grissom instructed.

"Sure," Catherine said, making her way to the building.

"Archie said the game they were going to was at two o'clock so see if there's anything on the tapes from 12:30 on, we know they're in a car we just need to know exactly what they're driving," Grissom called out in reminder as she disappeared into the building.

Kneeling down he took out a swab and ran it over the dried blood; it was probably Nick or Greg's but there wasn't a lot of it which boded well for their safety when they were taken at least. A search of the ground presented only two tickets to the football game so he moved on to the inside of the car, hoping to find more. There was nothing unsettled, no blood on the dash or the seats, some papers in the back were still piled nicely and a cooling coffee cup stood straight up in the cup holder. There had been no struggle in the car and the passenger door was still locked, meaning Nick and Greg had not even gotten in. Satisfied with this, Grissom pulled himself out of the front seat but his eye caught on something out of place that he saw as he came at a new angle with the floor.

Clicking on his flashlight he peered under the dashboard, noting a wire that didn't belong. He took off the paneling and followed the wire to a flashing box attached to the engine seemingly set to turn on whenever the car was started. Grissom looked it over: tracking device.

Undoubtedly Crane had put it in Nick's car to follow his every movement and still be able to keep a safe distance to avoid being seen. Nick would notice if someone was tailing him, and Crane knew that. Clearly Crane knew far too much. Grissom bagged the device and labelled it then started towards the building to join Catherine. He found her in a security room reviewing video tape.

"Find anything?" she asked first.

"Just a tracking device Crane planted in Nick's car. That and the blood, plus their tickets to the football game. You?" Grissom asked, noticing the tape was rewinding.

"Crane's driving a black cavalier, I already called Brass and gave him the description. The camera got everything," Catherine announced and thankfully did not have to explain further as the tape finished rewinding to the appropriate spot. She hit play and let him see for himself.

Grissom watched, trying to restrain his emotions as he saw the two friends enter the shot, unaware that the man waiting for them in the black car was actually Nigel Crane.

"Make sure we run the plates on that car, it's probably stolen but if we know where from it may give us a new starting point," Grissom mumbled and then winced as Greg was struck suddenly from behind by Crane and toppled to the ground. Nick came around and they could see that Crane was armed. The camera had no sound so they watched silently as Crane and Nick talked animatedly and then the madman forced Nick to handcuff his best friend, put him in the trunk and drive away. Catherine hit the stop button, unnerved and hoping they were still alive. It had been more than two hours since they were taken and they still had no clue where they might be.

"Nick looks pissed," Catherine commented somewhat lightly, stating the obvious.

"Yes, he does. Well that was definitely Nigel Crane but his demeanour seems to have changed completely. I saw no nervous tendencies in his stance or movement, he was very confident," Grissom noted, wondering at the change.

"He's been in therapy since his arrest, who knows how his delusions may have changed," Catherine commented.

Grissom nodded, "Well, if that's the case then why take Greg too? Even Nick looked surprised when Crane seemed to say it. If his fantasies revolve around becoming Nick, or becoming Nick's friend, why bring Greg along? In a way Greg is his competition for Nick's friendship, it would hinder Nick's ability to become Crane's friend with him there."

"Maybe he wants to make Nick choose," Catherine theorised.

"Or he wants to show him that he would make the better friend, that he was more deserving. He may want to prove himself," Grissom suggested and both their minds immediately began to play for them what that might mean. Neither of them liked what they saw and they shook the thoughts away.

"Let's go check out the apartment," Grissom suggested as a way of forgetting the disturbing footage.

They both entered the apartment and again saw no signs of a struggle which wasn't surprising since they now knew that the attack had taken place in the parking lot. Still, they dusted for prints and collected several hair samples; Nigel Crane was a thorough stalker and planner and it was very possible he had been in the apartment, watching Nick and Greg for some time. Catherine was about to suggest they head back and focus on doing research on Crane when Grissom's cell phone rang again.

"Hey Grissom, it's Warrick, I'm at Nick's place. You got to see this man, there's more spy equipment and cameras here than in the Whitehouse. You'd miss them if you weren't looking though; he's got bugs planted under the tables, cameras in the lights, everything we saw from him before."

"But no clue where he might be now," Grissom surmised.

"No, not yet, I'll keep looking though, I still got the attic to check out," Warrick said sounding optimistic. "You guys find anything?"

"Yeah, Crane attacked them here in the parking lot and we got a make on his vehicle. He knocked out Greg and then forced Nick to drive at gunpoint, there's not much in the apartment and we're towing Nick's car back to the lab for a more detailed inspection," Grissom replied.

"All right, I'll keep working here and call if I find anything else," Warrick promised. Grissom said he would do the same, said good-bye and hung up. As he put the phone back in his pocket he noticed Catherine staring at him strangely.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"We have Nick's cell phone, where's Greg's?" Catherine asked, looking around the apartment having not seen it in the bedroom.

"I don't know. I tried it twice but there was no answer either time," Grissom said, "but that was almost an hour ago."

"But it rang? That means it's on, wherever it is," Catherine surmised. Gil nodded but didn't think this would help them.

"I think if they had it and could, they would have made some attempt to call us already," Grissom noted but was not opposed to any ideas at this point.

"Yeah, but Greg was unconscious when Crane put him in the trunk, he might not have been awake to answer," Catherine guessed.

Grissom nodded his agreement and took out his phone once more, dialling Greg's number. It rang, confirming Catherine's suspicion that it was still on, but after seven rings there was still no answer. Grissom sighed and was about to hang up but on the final ring there was a click and his heart skipped as he heard the panicked voice on the other end.

"Grissom?"

"Nick?"

TBC

Oh this story is fun to write! I love it!

Amazing reviews! Thank you soooo much everyone, you're all so sweet and soooo desperate for an update.

Djembe – Thank you so much for the amazingly well rounded review. It really made me feel great. I also checked out your profile and saw you are very new to (that or you just got a new user name) and I wanted to thank you soooo much for making me the first fic on your faves list. I'll try to keep up the high standards.

Rehgai – No, no rape. I would have had a warning and a much higher rating if there was, but I think the angst is high quality without it.

Aurora – I didn't _leave_. I took a … break? Well, I didn't leave it for long anyway, and I hope your sanity's intact.

Michelle – Yeah, Nick has some more angst parts later when Nigel really starts to snap, you'll like it, I got a little bit of both.

Thanks to you all, and I hope none of you fall off this cliff hanger ending. (god I sound like my father, despite all my efforts to the contrary). Anyway, I gotta go study, Goody!


	5. Call Waiting

Okay, so maybe I didn't get all the angst out of my system yet. Which you little angst consumers should be quite pleased about, things don't get much better for our boys in chapter five of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Minutes past in silence. Nick was thankful Crane seemed to have exhausted himself but he could not tear his eyes away from Greg's battered form. The younger man was still conscious, his face echoing the pain he was in. Blood ran down his face and arms and parts of his chest, the right side of his face was starting to show signs of bruising and Nick guessed that his back and legs would already be dark with bruises from where the bat had struck him. His right arm seemed to be hanging wrong too and Nick assumed he had broken a bone or two.

Crane had been silent for some time, kneeling on the floor, head down, and then he suddenly took a deep breath and stood up, his tears dry and his emotions again under control. He looked at Nick and smiled at the unshed tears still reflected in his eyes. _He cries for me, he almost understands,_ Nigel thought and was eager to make him fully comprehend just what he needed to know. Then his gaze turned to Greg, who moaned as he tried to breathe and escape the pain that racked his entire body. Crane smiled at this too, glad Nick could see him standing tall and strong over the smaller, broken body of what would be his former friend. Still smiling, he reached down and took Greg by the hair, ignoring his attempts to get away as he pulled him to his feet and made him face Nick.

"Nigel please, leave him alone, don't hurt him anymore," Nick begged him, his voice now a mere whisper from emotional exhaustion.

"You almost understand Nick," Crane said, pleased as he pulled Greg forward, uncaring of his moans or stumbles. "You see what I went through, what I _became_; this worthless form that was good for nothing, no one could love that." He tossed Greg on the floor and scowled, clearly despising what he now represented. "You're so close to understanding why I had to change, why we'll be great friends."

"I understand," Nick sighed, desperately tired of this game and standing by idly as his friend was beaten in front of him. "I get it, I'll be your friend."

"Thank you for the offer but you don't get it all yet, not yet, but you will. I'll be back Nick and then you'll know, it'll all be so clear," Crane smiled again, wider than before and reluctantly strode out of the room. Both pair of eyes followed him out the door, watched it close behind him and listened as the lock was pushed into place. Footsteps went down the stairs and to the first floor but did not leave the house.

Greg sighed deeply, tears of relief, however momentary, springing to his eyes. Only a foot away Nick collapsed again, unable to believe that this was happening.

"Oh my god, this is insane," Nick mumbled to himself, but then turned his full attention to Greg whose body shook with tremors of fear and pain. He whispered softly, knowing Crane was still downstairs and not wanting him to hear, "Greg, are you all right? God, Greg? Come on man, you gotta talk to me."

He heard a sad, ironic laugh come from Greg's throat. Turning to face him he tried to convey his thoughts through his eyes, _How do you want me to do that?_

Nick laughed too, briefly, noting the idiocy of his question, "Sorry … I'm so sorry Greg. Can you move? If you come another foot closer I think I can pull the tape off myself."

Greg closed his eyes as if concentrating, swallowed deeply and then nodded his head. It wouldn't be easy but he could do it. He took in a steadying breath and tried to push himself onto his good shoulder; he stopped, shuddering as his broken ribs ground against each other, and leaned his forehead against the floor as he tried to breathe, but he was determined not to submit to the pain. Gritting his teeth, he decided one fast movement would probably be the best. As quickly as possible he pushed himself onto his knees and then managed to stand. He took the one step he needed to reach Nick, thankful it was no more or he would not have made it, turned himself around and collapsed against the wall beside him. His breathing was heavy again from exertion and his eyes closed tight as he waited for the spiking pain throughout his body to settle into its constant throb once more.

"I got ya man," Nick mumbled, tearing the tape off his mouth in one quick motion to get it done with.

Greg flinched away and coughed but also breathed much easier, "Thanks."

"Are you all right?" Nick asked immediately, knowing it seemed a stupid question but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Fresh tears welled up in Greg's eyes. He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling as he replied, sad and afraid, "Yeah I'm great. I missed my football game, spent the better part of the day in a trunk, and now a serial killer wants to use me as part of a real life recreation of his childhood. What could possibly not be all right?"

Nick flinched at the torment he heard in Greg's voice but continued, "You know what I meant."

Greg nodded, he did, "I think I'll be okay. Sadly enough, I've had worse. After the lab explosion I couldn't even move. It's mostly bruises, bad bruises," he took a deep breath as he shifted his weight, "and I think my shoulder's dislocated. I'm more worried about what's to come though."

"Me too," Nick admitted.

Greg tried to smile and turned to Nick, "I don't suppose _me_ offering to be this guy's friend would help out any, huh?"

Nick laughed weakly, "I don't think so."

"What if I explained to him that he's a psycho? He could have a huge breakthrough, realize the wrongs he's done in his life, take up religion or something, repent, let us go," Greg continued, trying to bat away reality with humor.

"It's a nice thought, but I still gotta say no," Nick replied, wanting to smile, and appreciating Greg's attempt levity, but unable to feel any happiness in their current situation.

Greg nodded. A beat passed and he took the chance to voice what he was really thinking, however disturbing it may be. His voice was low and scared as he whispered, "Nick, look I've been listening to this guy ramble, and it's pretty clear he wants you to understand him and what makes him tick and all that, with me as the star of the show. But it's also obvious he doesn't care what happens to me and no matter what you tell him, I mean … what if he doesn't believe that you 'understand him' unless … unless I die?"

"Greg, do not think like that. Being in the field a handful of times does not make you an expert on the criminal psyche, okay. Besides someone's going to find us, or maybe I can even reason with Crane, but I do know Grissom's looking for us right now, I left him a lead. We just have to wait and be careful, it'll be all right," Nick promised, trying to be strong for Greg even though he felt little more than fear and sorrow in his own heart.

Greg wanted to believe him but he had looked into Crane's eyes and did not see a shred of humanity within them. Hardly wanting to admit it to himself, he leaned closer to his only friend in the world, "Nick, I'm scared."

"God, I'm so sorry, Greg, no way should you be involved in this sick game he's playing," Nick said softly, shaking his head in frustration. "This psycho's supposed to be after me, hell he's supposed to be in jail not after anyone. This is my fault man; I'm sorry you got hurt cause of me."

As Nick spoke Greg's fear dissolved away to be replaced by fiery anger. He turned to Nick and grit out his reply through clenched teeth, "Don't you dare Nick! Don't you dare apologize for him! He is the one with the problem and the sick illusions, he's the one doing this and there is no way this is your fault! No God damn way! Do you understand?"

Nick couldn't believe that though, "Greg you don't get it, I'm the one he's trying to …"

"I get it just fine even with only a handful of field experience. This guy's lonely and wants a friend, someone to idolize, and you're the perfect example of a great friend. You're everything he wants to be, an all American guy that people love, not that I blame him because I feel pretty lucky to be your friend myself some days, and if you _apologize_ to me again for being a guy that people _love_ so much psychos want to be, than I will kick your ass and you're going to have to find yourself a new best friend, and I think your only other option here is Nigel Crane," Greg continued, going so far as to allow a shy, sincere smile upturn his lips.

Nick's eyes took on an appreciative sadness, "Thanks man. All right then, let's figure out a way out of here. Can you walk at all?"

"Yeah if I need to, my legs are pretty much fine, but it's kind of a moot point with you chained to a radiator," Greg pointed out.

Nick pulled at the cuffs again even though he knew they would not budge, "I know. You're probably going to hate me for suggesting this but you could probably pull your arms in front of you if you really tried."

"How?" Greg asked, hopeful Nick had some kind of simple cop trick.

"If you roll yourself over you should be able to push your wrists past your legs and in front of you. If your shoulder's really dislocated it shouldn't be that hard to get around … but it'll hurt," Nick said, hating that he was suggesting something that would cause Greg even more pain, but there was no way he could get free from his own cuffs whereas the younger man had a chance for more freedom and possibly be able to defend himself.

Greg took a deep breath and pushed himself up a little, ready to try, "All right, just call me 'The Amazing Rolling Greg'."

"When you flip over you're gonna … oh my god." Nick was cut off by a heart stopping sound.

Both men turned at the same time, their ears perked and eyes scouring the other side of the room, unable to believe what they were hearing: Know Your Enemy by Rage Against the Machine.

Nick was almost scared to hope, "Greg, is that …"

"My cell phone!" Adrenaline pushed him to his feet and he immediately fell to one knee in pain, sucking in air as he searched the floor for the small piece of technology.

"I thought it fell out in the trunk," he sputtered as he rose to his feet again, stumbling as he looked over the ground, kicking away shards of glass in hopes of finding it. Having his arms cuffed behind him threw off his balance and his concussion made him light-headed but he refused to be slowed down.

Nick's heart soared, this could be their salvation, but then that same heart fell into his stomach as he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Apparently Crane had heard the phone ringing as well.

"Greg, he's coming!" Nick called out, praying with all his will that Greg could get the phone quickly.

"Found it!" Greg yelled, kicking over a large piece of glass, then he swore. With his arms behind his back he couldn't pick up the phone or answer it, and he could hear Crane getting closer. Thinking fast he kicked the phone towards Nick, praying it didn't break during the trip. But it made it safely and Nick was waiting with open hands as it slid into his grasp.

Greg wanted to fall to the floor as exhaustion and pain continued to roll over him but he knew they were far from safe. The heavy footsteps now approached the door. Greg ran towards it and threw all his body weight against the door to barricade it, which wasn't much but could save them the time they needed.

Meanwhile Nick flipped open the phone after taking a microsecond to check the caller ID, "Grissom?"

Greg could hear the lock on the other side of the door sliding back. Crane tried to push the door open and Greg pushed back against it, gritting his teeth as his injured shoulder was mauled, but determined to keep Nigel out for as long as possible. Across the room, Nick talked fast.

* * *

"Nick, are you all right?" Grissom demanded, pressing the phone tightly against his ear.

"Crane's coming back, I don't have much time. Greg's here too, we're in an old house in some kind of factory neighbourhood off of 108, I don't know what it is exactly. I think Crane used to …" Nick stopped suddenly and Grissom could hear splintering wood in the background followed by someone crying out and a body striking something hard.

"Nick, what's happening?" Grissom yelled and his eyes widened as he listened.

"No!" he heard Greg yell in the distance.

"Greg don't!" Nick shouted, no longer into the phone. Feet scuffled, breathing became heavy and then a single gun shot blasted through the air. Grissom jumped but continued listening; he could tell the phone had been dropped and heard what sounded like Greg scream in pain in the background, followed by Nick's voice, weaker than before, "Crane, leave him alone!"

Heavy footsteps echoed over the line and Grissom had to try once more, "Nick can you hear me? Are you all right?"

The last footstep landed and was followed by a loud crunch and then the horrifying sound of a dial tone. They were cut off.

Grissom stared in shock at the floor for a moment, processing what he had heard before meeting Catherine's questioning gaze.

"What Gil?" Catherine asked.

"We don't have much time."

* * *

Nick yelled into the phone as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on Greg, doing his best to hold the door closed with his battered body.

"Crane's coming back, I don't have much time. Greg's here too, we're in an old house in some kind of factory neighbourhood off of 108, I don't know what it is exactly. I think Crane used to …" Nick wanted to tell Grissom that this had been Crane's home as a kid, wanted to give him exact directions to the house, wanted to plead for him to hurry but he was cut off as Crane broke through the door, splintering the wood as he slammed into it, knocking Greg off balance and throwing him hard into the wall. Greg cried out as his bad shoulder was punished again. Crane stood like solid anger in the doorway, turning from the fallen Greg to Nick who still held the cell phone. The gun had returned to Crane's hand and he brought it up to Nick's eye level. The CSI's eyes widened and he started to cover his head but saw Greg move and push himself off the wall.

"No!" Greg called out desperately as he lunged at Crane.

"Greg don't!" Nick shouted, knowing Crane would not hesitate to shoot him. Just as Crane pulled the trigger Greg's body collided into him, throwing his aim off and causing the bullet to miss its sought after target of Nick's head. Instead its trajectory changed from fatal to wounding. Nick was stunned as the impact threw him into the wall and his head turned slowly to see the source of the searing pain in his left shoulder, watching almost fascinated as the red blood stained his shirt and he slid slowly down the wall, gasping.

Across the room, Crane took hold of Greg's collar and threw him to the ground. He landed hard on his dislocated shoulder and heard another popping before he screamed, with his eyes closed tightly to protect them from the glass that was again imbedding itself in his side.

"Crane leave him alone!" Nick yelled as his head cleared slightly, not noticing he had dropped the phone when he was shot. He knew the wound, though painful, was not fatal so once more he was focussed on Greg, the kid he thought of as a younger brother, someone he would confide in and protect, but right now he was doing a terrible job of just that and he ached in his soul to watch him be hurt any more. For once though, Nick was able to draw Crane's attention to himself when he turned away from Greg to march quickly over to Nick, immediately stepping on the cell phone that still echoed Grissom's voice on the other line. He grabbed Nick by the shirt collar, showing more aggression and anger towards him than he ever had before.

"Who did you talk to?" Nigel demanded, shaking him to get a response.

"Wrong number," Nick said through clenched teeth, smirking at Crane's anger and trying not to cry out as his wounded shoulder hit the wall. The smirk quickly faded though as Crane released him and turned around, grabbing Greg's hair again and picking him up just to toss him onto his back in front of Nick. A knife suddenly appeared from Nigel's back pocket, sharp, long and dangerous. He straddled Greg's hips and pulled back his head, then pressed the edge of the knife against the young man's exposed neck.

"Who did you talk to?" Crane asked again, his words slow and deliberate as the knife pushed in deeper but did not break the skin.

"Grissom, it was Grissom, my boss!" Nick admitted, completely unable to lie with Greg's death as a punishment.

Greg made a gurgling sound as he tried to swallow even as he stopped breathing from fear; he closed his eyes and shuddered as the cold metal bit in deep, wondering if he was going to die and hoping when his life flashed before his eyes it left out this day, the lab explosion, and his entire 'geek' years of high school.

"What did you tell him?" Crane demanded, looking directly into Nick's eyes.

"Nothing, you came in too soon," Nick replied. This did not please Nigel and the metal drove in a fraction deeper on one end, drawing blood and a small cry from Greg's throat. "I swear!" Nick continued. "I told him we were somewhere on 108 but I didn't have time to tell him anything else. That highway goes for three, four hundred miles, they'll never find you! Let him go!"

Crane met Nick's gaze for several long moments, the knife never wavering from its position. He nodded and seemed satisfied but did not release his hostage.

"You shouldn't have done that Nick. I thought you were beginning to understand. You disappointed me and I don't like being wrong. I may have to take somewhat drastic measures to test you from now on," Crane said noncommittally as if debating the decision.

Nick thought fast and hoped his reply would assuage Crane, "That's not what friends do Nigel, that's not how friendship works. Friends forgive one another, they don't punish each other."

Nigel turned from Nick and stared at Greg's face as he considered this, watching him shudder and gasp. The pressure of the knife eased off and as Greg breathed once more he ran the blade slowly over the lab tech's face.

"You're right Nick, that is what friends do. But _he_ isn't my friend." With a quick flick of his wrist the knife cut across Greg's cheek, making a bloody gash from ear to cheek bone. Greg gasped and turned away, breathing hitched with fear and thanking god it wasn't worse.

"Please stop," Greg whispered, closing his eyes. His fear was almost palpable but his voice did not waver and he refused to shed any more tears. He just wanted this all to end, and when it was over he wanted to be alive. Both Crane and Nick were now listening and after taking a deep breath for courage, with a sad lopsided smile and mirthless eyes, he continued, "You know you don't have to do this. I'm really an okay guy when you get to know me … well okay, maybe I'm a bit of an acquired taste but I bet you'd feel really horrible about this if you knew how cool I am. I got a kickass CD collection."

A sad laugh escaped Nick's throat at Greg's weak, ridiculous attempt to get levity from Crane and repel his assaults. It was a ludicrous thing to say to a man with a knife to your throat, but it was so very Greg. It served to remind Nick even more that his friend should not be here, should not be involved with murder and violence like this. Greg should be at a football game, eating hotdogs, complaining about the music at half time. It was wrong that he was here, his life in the hands of a madman, and suddenly Nick hated Nigel Crane more than ever.

Nigel almost smiled at Greg's words, liking how desperate it made him appear in front of Nick, but then he heard Nick laugh and he was angry. Here he was with both of them at his mercy, knife in hand, having just revealed his deepest secrets to Nick, and yet he still laughed at this brat's pathetic attempts at humor? He was supposed to have all the power, rule this situation, and yet Nick's attention was still divided, still focussed on this child that was so far beneath him.

A horrible, malicious grimace passed over Crane's face as he looked down at Greg, putting all the pieces together in a logical, psychotic order.

"It's your fault," he announced, speaking slowly as his explanation formed in his mind.

"Wh … what? … Ah." Greg asked but said no more as the knife returned to his throat.

"It's you, _you're_ why he doesn't understand. He's not _listening_. He's supposed to listen and learn and understand and you're _distracting_ him. _You're_ the reason he wants to leave, _you're_ the reason he was bad, it's all _your_ fault!" Crane shouted, enraged.

"No Nigel, it's you!" Nick yelled but was cut off as Crane seemed to snap even further.

"Shut up! Stop protecting him. You know it's his fault. He keeps you from caring about anyone else! You can't see past him! You're too good, too loyal. You can't give up on this worthless brat and let yourself understand me. … You have to understand though, he doesn't deserve you. If you're ever going to get it then he has to go!"

Greg struggled and kicked now, trying to get away as Crane's ire increased and the knife was moved from his neck to being poised high above his chest, with Crane clearly intending to strike at any moment.

"No, wait!" was all Greg could think to call out as he struggled for his freedom, but Crane's grip and position were strong and his stance determined. Looking into Crane's eyes he saw no signs of hesitation, just insane clarity, and the decision had clearly been made to kill him.

"You have to go," Crane whispered again, eyes widening just before the knife began its arc. Greg closed his eyes, not wanting to see the final strike that would take his life.

The blade never fell though and suddenly Nigel's bodyweight was pushed away and he could feel Crane fall to his side, gasping in surprise. Greg opened his eyes and saw Nick had pulled against his restraints enough that his leg was just able to reach Crane and he had kicked their kidnapper hard in the side of the head. Crane was getting up now, breathing hard in fury, but he was actually stopped in his tracks when Nick shouted at him, vehement and angry, no longer pleading or petitioning to any moral qualities Crane may have but demanding instead.

"You are _not_ going to kill him, don't even touch him! If he dies Crane, I will _never_ ever be your friend, no matter how much you want me to, no matter how well I understand, no matter how long you try, I will despise you forever, hate every word you say to me and ensure you never have a single moment where you don't feel utterly alone. He's _my_ friend Crane, and unlike you I know what that means! If you really wanted to be my friend you'd leave him alone, but if you kill him I swear we will never, ever be friends, we'll be enemies. So get away from him!" Nick was shaking by the time he finished his tirade, anger, adrenaline and pain spurring him on. He would not sit by any longer as this madness continued and from the look on Crane's face it was clear he had gotten his point across.

Still on his knees beside Greg, Crane had not risen from the floor as Nick shouted and now tears actually appeared in his eyes. His thoughts were almost visible as his mind spun over these demands and ideas. Emotions flitted across his face like movie frames and eventually settled on incredibly frustrated. Standing, Crane clutched at his hair and screamed, loud and angry, releasing his emotions until his throat was raw. He tried to think, tried to come up with a way to make everything work. He stomped to the far wall and banged his head against it, an act he had begun as a child, and muttered to himself.

"I am one and who am I? I am one and who am I? I am one and who am I? I am one and who am I?" he stopped after a few more repetitions as his mind was calmed by the mantra and he tried to think, head still leaned against the wood. "He needs to go, but I can't kill him, Nick won't let me. Nick doesn't lie, he won't be my friend if I kill him. But he's distracting Nick, he won't understand with that brat here so I have to get rid of him somehow. Nick just doesn't get it, he has to understand … understand … yes, I'll show him! He's above Gregory, he's too good for him. I'll make him see that and then …"

Crane did not have the chance to finish his thought. Was that a footstep behind him? A snarl? He began to turn to see but before he could look he was struck in the head from behind and fell to the floor. Disoriented and surprised, he relied on instinct and quickly pushed himself onto all fours and put a hand on the back of his head. Before he could turn around to defend himself he was struck again, this time across the shoulder blades and he fell onto his stomach.

"Stay down!" the attacker shouted.

Standing above him, wobbling, Greg triumphed in his own mind as he raised the bat again.

TBC

Woo hoo! Go Greg! He's got so much spunk that little lab tech!

I must thank, over and over again my amazing reviewers!!!!!! All of you, Kenzimone (your review really made me smile), r-r-r-raccoon (another quirky review, it was cute), Sillie (love your consistency), whiterose01, A.H. Smith, higherbeingsfriendsfan, rozzy07, Neovator, Aurora, snowbunny3, deathchamberX17, Jackie (did you review twice?), Hyperactive Forever, Elf Fanatic Lark, ally, and Feline Feral. Every review was cherished and hugged.

You all replied so quickly and passionately, I am sorry it took a week for me to get a new chapter up but exams and essays and … you know. Hope this will keep your interest and satisfy your angst cravings for the time, and I apologize in advance for any who may fall off this cliffhanger. Goody


	6. Humor and Hope

Is the end in sight? looks through her binoculars Ah, not quite, but there are some lovely Nick and Greg interactions in this chapter that I'm quite proud of and I think you'll like. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you, thank you for the great reviews. But I know why you're here so no waiting, here's the next chappy of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

It was Catherine's turn to drive as she and Grissom returned to the crime lab, which was fine with him since he had not gotten off his cell phone since his frightening phone call with Nick.

"So there's no way to make a trace?" Grissom asked, the disappointed look on his face telling Catherine the answer. He nodded his head, "All right, thanks Archie, yeah, I know you did your best. Call me if you do find anything."

He hung up the phone and turned to Catherine, "Archie couldn't track the phone, either the battery's dead or it's been destroyed, no way to get a location."

"From the look on your face I'd say your money was on it being destroyed," she guessed.

Grissom nodded again, deep in worried thought, "They were in trouble Catherine, Nick was scared, it sounded like chaos. They just need to hold on until we can find them, until we can get that clue we need."

Catherine thought Nick may have given them the clues they needed and they just hadn't panned out yet. It wasn't hard to recall Grissom's animated phone call with Brass after losing the connection with Nick.

"Brass, it's Gil. I just got a hold of Nick on Greg's cell phone… no, he's not all right, at least, I don't think so. Anyway, we got cut off pretty quickly but he said that Crane is holding him and Greg in an old house off the 108, it's part of a 'factory neighbourhood', sound familiar? No? Yeah, I know it's a long highway but there must be something like that somewhere. All right, my people will be on it too … bye."

Brass had promised more chopper sweeps but Grissom had clearly been disheartened that he did not recognize Nick's description of the area right away.

Catherine pulled into the Crime Lab and climbed out of the car as eagerly as Grissom, both fervent about following up their leads as quickly as possible. On the way in they passed Warrick whose hopeful look fell away when he saw the despondency on their faces.

"Didn't find anything?" Warrick asked, not expecting much.

Grissom tilted his head, "Actually we got something big, is Sara here?"

"Down the hall, she's doing research on Crane. What did you find?"

"Go get her and meet us in the conference room, I'll explain," Grissom promised, already moving purposely down the hall. Warrick didn't waste any time getting Sara as Catherine dropped off the samples they had gathered to their respective technicians for processing.

She couldn't even force herself to smile as she handed in the DNA samples to Greg's replacement. It was the same guy that had been in for Greg on his days off; he was quiet, cranky and slow, making her miss Greg even more and she rushed away as soon as possible. As she left the lab, absent of humor or loud music, a sudden panic gripped her as she thought about losing Greg, permanently. It was overpowering for a moment, but she breathed deeply and pushed her emotions to the side, a technique learned early in her line of work, and forced herself not to think of that possibility. Focussed once more she headed for the conference room.

Grissom was the last to arrive for the meeting and his eye was immediately drawn to the noticeably empty chair. The sight stopped him in his tracks as he was once more painfully reminded that this was not a normal case, these were two of their own that were missing. But he knew he couldn't think like that, he had to remain objective to function, and as he entered the room he didn't look twice at Nick's empty spot, instead he looked right at Sara who was rummaging through a folder.

"Sara, what did you find out?" Grissom asked, knowing research on Crane was one of their best chances for leads right now.

Sara was prepared and picked up a few sheets of paper to begin her explanation, "I talked to Crane's doctors and they sent over his records, apparently he's made a few breakthroughs in therapy but is nowhere close to sane. It's kind of scary, pretty much every one of these sessions revolve around Crane obsessing about Nick, sometimes becoming violent in earlier meetings. He was determined to become Nick somehow, no matter what it took. Eventually the doctors decided to try and curve his violent tendencies by suggesting instead of becoming Nick, he should want to be friends with Nick."

"How does that make sense?" Warrick asked, not seeing the connection.

"It does in a way. If Crane is obsessed with becoming Nick then he's violent, obsessive, uncontrollable, but if his desire is to be Nick's friend than it's likely he'll become, well, nicer. He'd be easier to get along with, eager to please, willing to change. They thought friendship brings out the best in people, in fact one doctor had a note down that he was going to call Nick soon to see if he would be willing to help in their sessions, but I can guess what he would have said to that."

"Go to hell," Catherine guessed.

"Somewhere along those lines," Sara agreed.

"Well it doesn't seem that they progressed very far, Crane is still violent and not very friendly," Grissom commented.

"Besides, if his goal is to become Nick's friend then he wouldn't have grabbed Greg too right? He should have had no interest in him, unless he was just grabbing him so there would be no witnesses," Warrick thought aloud.

"No, he wanted them both. Crane is too meticulous a planner to just go after Nick whenever it was convenient, he wanted both of them and he picked the perfect time to take them too," Catherine pointed out.

"She's right, we might not have even known they were gone yet if I hadn't tried to call Nick before," Grissom added, and was reminded of his own findings. "Speaking of which, when Catherine and I were at Greg's we tried calling his cell phone and we got an answer."

"Was it Greg?" Sara asked, eyes widening.

"No, it was Nick. He said they were both still alive and being held in a house somewhere on the 108, it's part of a factory neighbourhood, probably remote," Grissom reported.

"How did he sound?" Warrick asked, almost at the edge of his seat.

"Alive, that's what's important, Greg was too. We lost the connection before Nick could tell us more, but we'll work with what we have for now. Warrick, you and Catherine start going through maps, find that neighbourhood, Sara, keep doing what you're doing, research could be the key on this one, I'll be in the tech lab," Grissom said, watching as the meagre remnants of his team rushed out to start working. Catherine held back a second.

"You didn't tell them Crane was there and you heard a gunshot," she pointed out, voice slightly accusatory.

"No need to worry them, they have to focus, they have to have hope," Grissom said, his voice hinting that he felt to the contrary. Catherine grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away.

"We're going to find them, Gris, alive. You believe that don't you?" she asked in disbelief.

Grissom had to shrug sadly, "I want to." And then vanished down the hallway.

Catherine sighed and then joined Warrick to begin scanning maps and locations to find their lost team mates and bring them home.

* * *

When he saw Crane storm away to the far corner of the room, paying them no attention and chanting to himself as he banged his head on the wall, Greg's first thought had been of escape. The door was not that far; he was hurt, his body was badly bruised and a few ribs were broken but he still might be able to run, only there was nowhere to go. 

_Desert, right, not a lot of neighbours._

And then he saw Nick. Bleeding but not caring, eyes locked on Crane, watching his every move. Even if he did run, and somehow get away, he would be leaving Nick behind. Like hell. But Crane was preoccupied, seemingly completely oblivious to his surroundings and Greg was determined to take every chance that was offered to them. Taking a silent, deep breath, Greg pushed himself up on his shoulder, somersaulted forward and pulled his arms behind his legs, stretching until he felt his shoulder had dislocated permanently and struggling, straining not to scream. The pain was horrible, his shoulder was on fire, his broken ribs ground together and his bruises all awoke, but the reward would be wonderful. Finally, panting, he was lying on his back again, legs stretched out and arms where they should be, in front of his body.

Nick saw what he was doing and his head could not have turned from Greg to Crane, over and over again any faster. He watched Greg's progress intently and prayed for Crane to stay in his delusional state for as long as possible. The pride and relief he felt as Greg silently rolled free, arms in front of him, was amazing. Now Greg could get away, at least he would be safe.

But Greg was not running. He briefly locked eyes with Nick, who pointed his head towards the door, willing Greg to run. The lab tech shook his head, he wouldn't leave, but he also wouldn't take this lying down any more. Greg silently rose to his feet and carefully took three steps across the floor. Shaking from adrenaline, pain and fear, he leaned over and picked up the baseball bat, which had been carelessly discarded earlier. Now holding his breath, he inched closer to the man leaning against the wall, still mumbling to himself. Greg heard his own name and nearly stopped but the strong wood in his hands made him confident and as Crane turned around a fraction he released the breath he had been holding in a cry as he swung the bat against the man's head.

Crane fell to the floor and Greg nearly collapsed himself, his shoulder protesting against such movements with pain. The swing had been far from powerful but it had been the best his abused body could do and as he saw Crane try to rise from the floor adrenaline urged him to strike once more, putting more of his anger and fear into the blow.

"Stay down!"

"Greg run! Get the hell out of here!" Nick cried, not caring how triumphant Greg seemed he knew things could turn bad again any second, after all it wasn't their day for luck.

"No, this is over!" Greg shouted, releasing his fear and frustration. He hit Crane again but then stumbled and cried out as his shoulder finally gave out on him, refusing to take any more. The pain was incredible and Greg knew that last blow had hurt him more than Crane.

"Greg, get the gun!" Nick suggested, trying to focus him with some plan of action. Greg breathed, trying to ride out the pain, but heard what Nick said. He moved forward, knowing if he had the gun he wouldn't need the bat anymore, but Crane was still moving and Greg hesitated.

_How do you knock a guy out without killing him?_ He wondered, unwilling to take Crane's life despite his hatred for the man. Before he could figure it out Crane was rolling on his side and Greg had to strike once more – but the blow never landed.

Crane was faster than he had thought and Greg was moving understandably slow. Before the bat could connect Crane had rolled onto his back, brought up his hands and caught the bat in midair, holding the end tightly. Greg's heart froze and his eyes widened in panic.

"No!" Nick cried, his fear tripling as he stood by helplessly.

"Not nice Gregory," Crane hissed and tugged at the bat, but Greg wouldn't let go. He knew if he lost the weapon he was dead and his grip locked tighter than his porn collection hidden at the lab. They both pulled for a moment as Crane got to his feet, neither giving up the bat, until Greg made a desperate move and kicked the other man suddenly in the groin, knowing dirty tactics were acceptable in this game. Crane was bent over but he did not let go and even as he gasped he shoved the bat back into Greg's stomach, causing him to collapse to one knee as his battered ribs took the brunt of the hit. Crane snarled and twisted the bat upwards to strike the lab tech hard under the jaw, knocking him to his back.

Greg finally released the bat and lay on the floor, opening and closing his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Fierce anger took hold of Crane as he straightened to his full height and lifted the bat above his head to strike once more, only once, and end the young man's life. He would not have even considered hesitating if Nick's voice hadn't broken through his tormented mind.

"Nigel stop! I meant what I said before; if you hurt him I'll never be your friend, never! We'll be enemies!" Nick cried out, trying to sound strong and in control of the situation when really he was crumbling on the inside. He cursed Greg for doing something so dangerous, making him so scared, but he also understood that they had to take every opportunity to get out of here and admired his bravery for taking action.

Meanwhile, Crane's gaze flicked from Greg to Nick, clearly tormented once more. Anger continued to build in his body and his eyes and finally he snapped, yelling at the top of his lungs as he threw the bat away with all his strength, watching it smash into the hallway wall and clatter down the stairs.

"You don't understand, it's not fair!!!" Crane screamed, first at Nick, then at the sky, as if pleading to God. He pulled his hands through his hair holding his head as if in pain and rocking back and forth on his feet. "Don't understand, don't understand, don't understand …" he muttered several times, sounding overwhelmed. Eventually he looked to the door and saw it as a chance of escape, a way to recover, think and get his bearings. Desperate to regain control he stormed out of the room, not looking back, but was thoughtful enough to snap the lock into place behind him as he descended down the stairs to find comfort in his broken home.

Nick watched him leave, Greg only listened, not having the strength to move his head. Both were silent as they heard Crane go downstairs and stop in the living room, then there was nothing. They knew he hadn't left but he clearly wasn't moving either and they both sighed in relief.

Wanting to cry from the insanity of it all, Nick settled on sliding down the wall to rest on the floor almost panting with relief as he leaned his head against knees. When he looked up a few moments later his gaze fell on Greg. The younger man didn't move for a few moments, he just lay there blinking and breathing, and then he slowly rolled onto his side and met Nick's eyes. It was clear he was now concussed twice over and Nick knew he would not be thinking very clearly for awhile.

As Greg looked at Nick he appeared confused for a moment, and then said weakly, "Nick … you're bleeding."

Nick chuckled humourlessly at something so obvious, "So are you buddy."

Greg looked down and seemed surprised to see the cuts coating his arms and chest then looked back up at Nick, squinting as he tried hard to think clearly, "Well you're bleeding … centrally … around the general shoulder area. Is it bad?"

Nick looked at the wound, with his adrenaline dying down it was really starting to hurt and he didn't dare move it needlessly, especially considering the steady flow of blood still coming from it. The bullet hadn't gone all the way through and he thought infection might be an issue later; the house was filthy after all, it had been abandoned for close to twenty years and there was no way to get any sterile cleansing.

"I think I'm fine, it didn't hit anything serious." He took a breath. "Greg, I want to tell you that you did a great job, okay, you're being really strong man and I'm proud of you," Nick whispered, trying to keep his voice steady even as the realization that they may both die continued to strike him.

Greg actually smiled, genuinely, with no sadness or fear, "Thanks Nick, that means a lot." He said sincerely but his eyes were glazed and Nick knew he didn't understand their situation completely anymore after that last blow to the head. Content with his final words, Greg's smile remained as his eyes slowly drifted shut. Nick briefly thought that that was a good idea, he was beyond exhausted, but then the small voice in his head shouted at him, _Concussion!_

"Damn it," Nick mumbled, then continued slightly louder, "Greg, Greg you can't fall asleep man. Stay with me, open your eyes."

"I'm tired … bleeding … sleep," Greg replied in a haze, not opening his eyes.

"Come on G, talk to me, it's your favourite past time and I'm here to listen," Nick implored him. Even as he spoke he felt guilty because not only did he want Greg to stay awake for his own health, but he also did not want to be alone, awake, in this nightmare.

"Later," Greg promised, his voice becoming weaker.

Nick tried a new tactic and felt horrible for it, "Greg please, stay awake, you wouldn't leave me alone here, would ya? I'm all by myself."

"Call Warrick then," Greg suggested, his voice still groggy, but his eye opened a slit.

Nick laughed, "I can't call Warrick, all I got is you lab rat, so get up." His voice became demanding at the end, knowing how Greg usually reacted when he was angry.

Both eyes were now open and Nick could see comprehension starting to seep back in.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," Greg whispered, blinking away the welcoming sleep and trying to sit up to help him stay awake. The pain that came with moving stopped him, "Oh god. Okay, I'm up, but I'm not moving off this floor."

"That's all right, just stay awake and talk to me," Nick requested.

Greg nodded his head, "So, what should we talk about, news, women, sports or the latest torture techniques used by madmen?"

Nick leaned back against the wall tiredly, falling easily into their banter, "I'll take women for one thousand Alex."

Greg had to think for a moment but then smiled, "You see the new receptionist on dayshift?"

"No, she cute?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Quality grade, president's choice, I'd pay to father your children, kind of hot." Nick laughed as Greg continued and slowly moved into a sitting position. "She had open toed shoes on one day too."

"And?"

"None bigger than the big toe," Greg reported, satisfied with his findings.

Nick smiled too, "I'll be sure to welcome her onboard when we get back."

Greg's face seemed to fall at this and he sat up completely, looking around the room they were both trapped in he felt unable to see his simple, mundane life past its walls, "Yeah … when we get back." He said softly, eyes drawn to the window.

"We're getting out of here Greg, Grissom's coming," Nick reminded the younger man once more.

Greg nodded as he oh so slowly pushed himself onto his feet and walked over to sit beside Nick once more. He was cradling his ribs, and his whole body hurt, but he did not complain as he leaned against the wall and slid down it wearily.

"And what could Grissom possibly find to tell him where we are?" Greg asked sceptically, his spirits understandably low. He eyed the blood flowing freely down Nick's arm and as they spoke he began to carefully rip off non-bloody strips of cloth from the button down shirt he was wearing over his T-shirt.

Nick smiled a little, "You're the CSI in training, you tell me. What kind of clues did we leave behind?"

Greg shook his head, which was pounding, "Nick, I'm really not in the mood."

"Come on Einstein, what leads are there to follow?"

Greg recognized the tone as a challenge and couldn't resist; he thought back, "Well, first our phone call with Grissom, he knows we're on highway 108 and alive and that Crane has us. I imagine they checked out both our apartments, they'll find both our cars in my parking lot and maybe some of my blood."

"Plus there was video surveillance," Nick added.

"Which means they'll know what Crane's driving," Greg's spirits rose with each new clue. "They'll probably do chopper sweeps of the desert which sometimes lucks out, but this place is old and probably not on a lot of maps anymore. But, someone must be assigned to research on Crane and maybe eventually they'll come across the fact that he lived here, and they'll make the connection to the highway and …"

"And they'll find us," Nick finished smiling.

"Yeah, they will." Greg's faith seemed slightly reaffirmed and he returned the smile as he finished ripping up his shirt. He picked up one of the wads and pushed himself onto his toes, closer to Nick, "Don't move all right, this doesn't look that great, I'm gonna try and slow the bleeding."

"All right," Nick nodded, flinching as Greg tore his shirt from the collar down for easier access to the bullet wound. When he could see it better Greg pressed the makeshift bandage firmly against the blood flow and held it in place. Nick hissed in pain, having to concentrate very hard to keep from pulling away.

"Sorry," Greg said, watching as Nick flinched but knowing he couldn't exactly be gentle or the blood flow wouldn't slow.

"Not your fault," Nick tried to take his mind off the injury and his eyes strayed to the tattered remains of Greg's beloved shirt, once a crazy spiral of blue variations, now unrecognizable strips of cloth or bloody tatters. "Sorry about your shirt, I know it was one of your favourites."

Greg scoffed, "Blood ruined it way before this did."

"And it was so nice to start out with too," Nick added sarcastically.

"You want to bandage up your own arm, Stokes? Then don't mock the fashion sense," Greg threatened lightly.

"What fashion sense?" Nick continued.

"You're just jealous, Mr. Plain-Tucked-In-T-Shirt," Greg mumbled as he threw away the first bloodied cloth and picked up a second one. The bleeding had slowed slightly and he thought he should try a bandage. "Uh, can you possibly, hold that there somehow?" he asked Nick. With his hands cuffed he couldn't hold the bandage in place and wrap the cloth strip around it. Nick nodded and held it there for a moment as Greg picked up a long strip of cloth and wrapped it around Nick's shoulder, holding the makeshift bandage in place. When he had finished tying it there was little more he could do.

"I guess I'm done, sorry it's not much," he reported, sitting back.

"It's great, thanks," Nick said sincerely, feeling better that the injury was cared for in some way at the very least.

"That had to be the least fun thing I've done since … well, anything else that happened today," Greg commented. Feeling a strange, grinding pain when he moved, he looked down at the bloodiest parts of his shirt. He lifted up the edge and saw several pieces of glass still imbedded in his side. Sighing, he began to pull them out as he and Nick spoke, the talking helping to take his mind off the pain.

"You know, I could have sworn you told me once you were an eternal optimist, I thought you could find a bright side to anything," Nick asked, now just trying to make conversation to distract them in their sad, quiet room.

Greg gave him a sceptical look but humoured him anyway before he flinched after pulling out a long slice of mirror from his side, "Optimism? Okay, well I could go for the obvious 'where there's life there's hope' cliché, but it's overused. Um, we're both still alive, conscious, not quite fighting for our lives anymore, Grissom's looking for us we assume, we can count on some serious time off work when we get back, and oh, I think my shoulder popped back into place last time Crane hit me."

"There, that's what I wanted to hear, positive," Nick replied with a sad sort of irony.

"Well, don't expect too much more of that," Greg commented. Finished with his task his gaze once again took in the tormented looking room and his mind mulled over their impossible, insane predicament. Tears that he refused to let fall suddenly pricked at his eyes as he realized that this may be the last room that he ever saw, that he could die very soon and he knew it wasn't right. Quietly, he whispered pleadingly, a hand running over his face, "God, I just want to go home."

Guilt quickly crept over Nick and his eyes dropped to the floor and then went up again to meet his friend's, "Greg, look, I know I said this before but I'm sorry that you …"

"You're right, you did say that before," Greg cut him off curtly. He turned to Nick, eyes now shining with sympathy and understanding, "And you didn't need to say it the first time so please don't say it again. We're in this together Nick, no point in looking back now."

There was a pause as Nick smiled in appreciation for Greg's words. It was a few moments before the lab tech broke the silence, his quirky smile returning, "So, you gonna Superman your way out of those handcuffs soon so we can get out of here?"

Nick tugged once at the cuffs, they wouldn't budge and it hurt his shoulder at an exponential level so he didn't try again, "Sorry man, there must be some kryptonite around here, my tank's empty."

Greg scoffed good-heartedly, "Geez, five days a week at the gym and you got nothing to show for it."

"I can kick your scrawny butt," Nick defended, taking pride in his muscular prowess.

"Not if you can only move two feet in any given direction," Greg answered, motioning towards Nick's trapped hands.

"Technicality," Nick muttered.

Greg smirked in triumph, "Technical knock outs, are still knock outs."

"Yeah, but no one brags about those," Nick added as his last defence.

Greg just shrugged having nothing to say to that. They sat in silence for a few moments, listening, thinking, reality breaking back into the world of levity they had been trying to maintain with meaningless banter. Bruises started to hurt again, memories of the day played back in full detail and fear reasserted itself, all in a few moments of silence.

Looking at Nick, Greg whispered, that deep fear returning to his voice, "Do you think he's coming back?"

"I don't know," Nick replied just as quietly. "I think I … confused him with what I said before. Maybe he'll stay disoriented for awhile, give us time for Grissom to find us or maybe find a way out of here."

"Well, this may rob me of my eternal optimist title but I don't think escape is going to be real high on our accomplishments list. The door's locked, the window's barred and you're stuck to a radiator. I've seen my fair share of westerns and action flicks and even I can't think of a way out of here," Greg announced sombrely, but clearly was not opposed to the idea of Grissom finding them.

"You never know, an opportunity may present itself," Nick said, taking the optimist role upon himself.

"Wait, let me guess, and we'll be ready when it does?" Greg replied as if quoting a low grade action movie.

"Now you got it," Nick smiled, briefly. The smile vanished when they heard a crash down below from the ground floor. Nick's first thought was a SWAT team, but after another second it was clear there was only one person downstairs and it was Nigel Crane. Another loud crash complete with breaking glass and clanging metal soon hit their ears.

"What's he doing?" Greg asked, his voice quieter than ever.

"I don't know, maybe he's freaking out," Nick suggested, remembering Crane's unstable emotional state when he left.

"He's not yelling or anything, I thought he liked doing that," Greg pointed out, recalling the psychopath's screams the other times he had become frustrated.

"You're right," Nick agreed, there would be more noise from Crane himself if he were breaking down.

Another crash, like a box being knocked over.

"Sounds like he's looking for something," Greg suggested as he heard sounds of rummaging.

Nick listened and had to agree again, but also had to ask the terrifying question, "What?"

Greg shrugged, "Don't ask me, he's your stalker."

"It's not like we're penpals man, I didn't _ask_ for this," Nick hissed through angry teeth, his emotions erupting suddenly.

Greg's look matched his in seriousness but also held sympathy, not anger, "I know."

Nick closed his eyes and sighed, he hadn't meant to take that out on Greg, "I'm sorry."

The lab tech just smiled oddly and shrugged, "Yeah, I know that too."

Downstairs the banging stopped, there were no more sounds of rummaging, and Crane laughed, once. Then both their heart rates doubled as they once again heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

TBC

gasp What will happen??? I hope I'm not supposed to know. Wait, I am? It's up to me? Well, I'll have to figure something out then, until that time though, I should thank my great reviewers.

Hello my great reviewers!!!!!! Okay, ff. net has been a little messed up lately and not all my reviews are showing up (as in I got emails that said I have reviews and then I couldn't find them on the site) so if you reviewed and I don't thank you personally, I'm sorry, it's the site's fault, and I thank you now.

Whiterose01 – well Greg does like to talk so I think him trying to humor his kidnapper is pretty entertaining and believable, glad you liked it. Thank you for reviewing, you're wonderful.

Kristen999 – everyone seemed to like Greg fighting back, glad you approved. 'sunshine and roses' soon? No way, we're still in the middle of winter, but summer does come eventually, it just may take a few chapters.

Mellaithwan – My that was an impassioned review, good that you're getting all those feelings off your chest. Yes, many hate Nigel but do not worry, he will get his just desserts … eventually. I'm still having fun for now.

Lancey – You are hilarious! I can't believe you wanted me to update Fields of Battle so badly you actually read this fic with no knowledge of the fandom, I must commend you. Many thanks. (BTW – you're right, Greg is a cutie). Thanks for reviewing, but unfortunately I don't know when there will be another chapter of Fields of Battle, it's exam time here at university.

Many thanks to all my reviewers, Aurora, starfish, Laveda, LXG-Gurl 121, A.H. Smith, FrodoLijactress, Sillie, HyperactiveForever (marshmallows J), snowbunny3, lamako, deathchamberX17, and higherbeingfriendsfan. You fill my heart with joy with all your kind words and send my fingers flying over the keyboard with more chapters. Anyway, catch ya later with more when the exam schedule allows.


	7. Pain and Rescue

Oh, my reviewers, you fantastic people! Next chapter, just for you, personal thanks at the end.

Painful Journeys

By Goody

"There's nothing here!" Warrick yelled in frustration, knocking the map off the table.

"Take it easy Warrick, there has to be something," Catherine tried to sound in control but couldn't hold back the weary sigh that came when she looked over their findings, which were nothing really.

Warrick picked the map back up and slammed it on the table, just as agitated, "Three gas stations, two hotels, a hiking trail, and desert, desert, desert but nothing resembling any kind of neighbourhood." He shook his head, not able to understand it. "It's not there. Maybe Nick got the address wrong, he had to be under a lot of stress at the time."

"Normally I may say you were right, but we did find Nick's phone on 108, so either way this is where we're restricting our search," Catherine explained, leaning over the map once more though she was doubtful of finding anything new. They had gone over it with a fine tooth comb and found nothing.

Warrick leaned back against the counter and rubbed his eyes knowing they were missing something. When he looked back at the map his eye was drawn to the corner legend: Highway 108 (1999), Department of Transportation. His brow furrowed.

"1999," he mumbled, clearly thinking aloud, drawing Catherine's attention. He lulled his thought over for a moment before he took a cautious step forward, pointing to the map, "What if … what if Nick got the address right, but we're not looking in the right spot. These are department of transportation maps."

He emphasized his last point but Catherine wasn't following, "Yeah, they have all the roads and landmarks for the highway."

"Not necessarily, in 1999 all the highways were renumbered, remember? So they issued new maps but if a road is no longer in use, and the department has no responsibility to look after it, they won't include it on their maps," Warrick said, making his point.

"So, if Crane took them somewhere isolated and old that isn't being looked after anymore, it wouldn't be on here. We have to look back further," Catherine realized. Warrick nodded and turned around to find the appropriate drawer in the cabinet. A few moments later he pulled out a new one and spread it out.

"Okay, this is 1985, let's see if there's anything …"

"Different," Catherine finished, her eye immediately drawn to a huge discrepancy; a road that was not on the map they had been looking at. It appeared to connect to 108 a few miles from where Nick's phone had been found and led far enough into the desert to not easily be seen by helicopter.

The road was called Mirview Drive and ended with a picture of a house and a building with a smokestack. They looked at the legend and saw the house meant a neighbourhood, and the building was a weapons factory.

"Bingo," Warrick whispered.

"Found you," Catherine agreed. They both smiled and turned to go find Grissom when Sara walked in, sheets in hand.

"Hey guys, I need your help. I found a possible location for Crane, he used to live somewhere called Mirview Drive but I can't find it on the database anywhere, do you think you could …"

Sara was cut off when she saw Catherine move out of her way and point to a spot on the map behind her, "Look something like this?"

Sara was confused for a moment but then smiled as she looked at the map and saw what they were talking about, beyond relieved as both Catherine and Warrick were, "Yeah, I'd say that's right."

The three of them rushed into the hallway and towards Grissom's office. He was behind his desk, appearing tired. It had been a long day and he knew it was far from over.

"Grissom," all three called out, immediately catching his attention. He turned quickly, startled and looked at his visitors. What really drew his interest was that they were all smiling and though he wished for the best, he was almost scared to hope that they had good news.

"We found it," Catherine said, making his hesitant hope well founded.

Grissom's eyes widened as he got up and grabbed his coat, "Show me, Warrick, call Brass, tell him where to go."

"On it," Warrick promised and was gone.

"The neighbourhood's abandoned, there's an old road that's probably grown over that leads to it a few miles up the 108 from where we found Nick's cell phone. We had some trouble finding it, it's not on the new maps because the road isn't used so we had to do some back checking," Catherine explained as they walked.

"You're sure though?" Grissom asked as he followed Catherine and Sara.

"Positive," Sara assured him. "Double confirmation, my research and their map checking. Whatever Crane wants with Nick and Greg it must have something to do with his past, the place is where he grew up."

"I suppose it's too much to hope he's just invited them for dinner. Let's go get Nick and Greg back then," Grissom suggested to no objections and though for now they were smiling, they all knew the clock was ticking.

* * *

"He's coming back," Greg whispered so softly Nick could barely hear him. The lab tech's eyes were wide with fear and he never took his gaze off the door. "What do we do?"

The desperation in Greg's voice tore at Nick's heart and he hauled at his own restraints once more, not surprised to find the act useless.

"I don't know," he admitted, looking around the room in desperate hope of finding something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing nearby except for a few shards of glass and the shattered cell phone.

Greg's breathing became heavy as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. He unconsciously moved closer to Nick, despite the older man's inability to protect him in any way other than words. They both watched, unable to look away, as they heard the lock click back, and the door was slowly pushed open.

Crane stood on the other side, gun already drawn, seemingly prepared in case of another attack. He smiled when he saw the two on the floor, pleased they had not tried to escape or hurt him again.

_Perhaps they are beginning to understand_, he thought gleefully as he entered the room, dragging behind him a wooden chair from a kitchen table with a roll of coarse rope on the seat. Clearly he was back in control of his emotions, he had sorted everything out in his own mind, and from the look on his face it appeared that he had a new plan. Greg and Nick both shuddered.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're starting to behave," Crane commented as he approached the two, smiling as he set up the chair right in front of them and took a seat, leaning forward like an old friend come to have a conversation. "I was a little worried about what happened earlier, but I've thought about it and I know what has to be done."

Nick was not reassured by these words and he could tell Greg was not either. Very slowly, not breaking eye contact with Crane, he asked, "Nigel, what's the rope for?"

Crane looked to the floor where he had discarded the rope to sit down and waved as if to dismiss it, "Oh, in a minute. But first, I have to apologize to you Nick. When I came up here before I was rash, and I can't believe I shot you, I'm so sorry about that. I was just … surprised, I couldn't understand the deception, but I know you couldn't help it with Gregory here clouding your thoughts. Still, it gave me no right to shoot you and I'm so sorry, do you forgive me?"

Nick didn't respond at first. If he said he forgave Crane then he would lose any leverage he may have over the psychopath but if he said he didn't then Crane could easily become violent again, and angry.

"I don't know," Nick said slowly, gauging the darkening look that came over Crane's face. "I'll have to think about it, maybe … maybe you could make it up to me."

Crane smiled and shook his head, "Nice try Nick, but you and Gregory aren't going anywhere. Besides, you're tough, you'll be okay. It looks like Gregory has patched you up anyway, he's a regular little wet nurse."

_He's a better friend than you'll ever be_, Nick thought in his own mind but knew he could not risk upsetting Crane, so instead he asked again, more demanding but also somewhat scared to know, "Just, tell me what the rope's for Nigel."

Shaking his head, Crane stood up and began to pace, clearly disappointed once more, "You still don't get it Nick, you just don't _care_ about me. I've had an extremely trying day you know, emotionally and physically, and you haven't shown any concern at all. Not a "how are you?" or "are you okay?" nothing. But _him_," his fiery gaze fixed on Greg, "whenever he whines or moans you jump to him, you _care_ and it's not right. He doesn't deserve that kind of loyalty, he's beneath your friendship."

Nick opened his mouth to defend the younger man and was horrified when Greg answered before him.

"Screw you pal."

Greg's voice was somewhat shaky but also clearly fed up. He was scared of Crane, scared of what he may do, but he was not going to take any more verbal abuse on top of the physical. He was not a dog to be kicked at will and he would stand up for himself.

"You wouldn't know friendship if it bit you in the ass. Do you even know what it means because in no way does it involve violence, kidnapping and murder. Friendship is about giving and taking and supporting each other, which frankly, you suck at, so screw you and your holier-than-thou 'tude."

"Greg, shut up," Nick whispered harshly as he watched the look of anger on Crane's face intensify. Greg did as asked, a fresh wave of fear crashing into him as he realized exactly what he had said but there was also a small feeling of victory which screamed to be recognized and he cherished it.

If possible, Nick's words seemed to infuriate Crane more than Greg's had, "You're doing it_ again_, you only care about _him_. What about my feelings Nick? What about me, huh? Well, it's time to put an end to that, to make you see that you're wrong. You want to know what the rope's for Nick, well instead of telling how about I just show you?"

Without warning Crane stomped forward and grabbed Greg by his hair. Greg had no chance to fight back as, in one fast motion he was pulled to his feet and then pushed down hard, ensuring he slammed face first into the floor. Greg made no sound as he lay stunned, his pre-existing head injuries causing his vision to darken around the edges as he waited for the pain to fade.

"God Nigel, just stop this please, it's crazy, you've done enough, just leave him alone," Nick begged, pleading not only for Greg's health but for a reprise from having to watch and live through this hell. He was beyond surprised when Crane actually turned to him, fury burning in him like the sun, and he punched Nick hard across the jaw.

"Shut up, I won't listen to you beg for him anymore! Why don't you understand that he's unworthy, that he's nothing!"

Nick hit the wall and then the floor, groaning when the pain in his shoulder awoke and assailed him, something he felt even through the fog in his head the blow had caused.

Meanwhile, Greg felt himself being pushed onto his back and he blinked to try and focus. Crane was leaning over him, rope in hand. He pulled harshly on Greg's bound hands and tied one end of the rope tightly around the metal chain between the handcuffs. This done he moved away and pulled the chair back a foot, looking at the ceiling.

In his head Nick heard Nigel's last words repeat a few times and then he had an idea that he thought he may be able to use to buy time or at least turn Crane's wrath away from Greg.

"Nigel, wait, listen to me. Wait!" At first Crane refused to stop to hear his pleas but he turned when Nick's voice became demanding and strangely calm. Nick swallowed and prayed, then pointed to Greg, "You say that he's worthless, that he's nothing, but you were nothing too Nigel. Remember your father, he was so mean to you, so unfair, he said you were nothing but you weren't, just like Greg's not. You're both people that don't deserve to be treated like this. But if you keep doing this then you're no better than your father was, you'll become your father."

"No! Shut up, I'm nothing like him!" Crane shouted, striking Nick again across the face. When Nick fell to the floor Crane did not show sympathy and began to kick him hard in the chest and stomach. "I'm not my father! How could you say that? How could you think that! You have no idea, about anything! I'm not my father! I'll show you! I'll show you once and for all."

The last was said quietly, Crane having exhausted himself as he turned his attention back to Greg who was trying to roll over. Nigel kicked him without a second thought, battering his broken body further, and eliciting a cry from the young man. Against the wall, Nick couldn't move, Crane hadn't held back on his assault and he couldn't breathe or think clearly but he did watch with detached interest as Crane did as promised and showed him exactly what the rope was for.

Breathing heavily from anger and exertion, Crane took the end of the rope not tied around Greg's hands and stood on the chair so he could easily throw it over the rafter crossing the ceiling.

"Time to get up Gregory."

Once the other end was hanging down he smirked as he took a hold of it and pulled hard, unceremoniously yanking Greg to his feet. As much as he didn't want to Greg screamed as his broken ribs were tugged suddenly but more because his dislocated shoulder was swung around and forced to support half his body weight as the rope was pulled tighter. The torn muscles were pulled mercilessly and the broken bones grinded together, creating a torture without weapons.

Crane laughed when Greg cried out and took his time tying the rope in place so that Greg's feet only barely touched the floor. Greg bit his lip to cut off his screams but his shoulder still felt as though burning needles were being shoved into it and it was hard not to focus on the pain.

"Greg, oh god. Nigel stop this, it won't change anything, and you know it's not right, it's something your father would do," Nick said slowly as he tried to breathe as he moved to sit up.

Crane kicked the chair away he had been standing on and smiled as he inspected his work, enjoying watching Greg's pain as he hung helplessly in front of him. He turned to Nick and smiled, proud of himself.

He took a step to stand in front of Nick and then knelt down to be at his eye level as he pulled the same long knife from earlier from his back pocket and displayed it extravagantly. Crane smiled as he considered Nick's words and shook his head, as if dismissing a child's ramblings, "You're wrong Nick, this will change everything. Death always has a way of changing things."

This said he hefted the knife up reverently and then turned his attention back to Greg.

* * *

The noise of the chopper's wings made speech onboard difficult despite the headsets and earpieces provided, and little was said on the flight out into the desert.

Brass looked at the occupants of his helicopter and sighed, wondering how he had let the CSIs convince him they should come. Even if the scene did need to be processed eventually as Grissom had argued, none of them were in any kind of emotional state to do it, but he understood their need to be there when their team mates were found and had let them come.

Along with a handful of SWAT team personnel he and the four CSIs were the only ones onboard with the rest of his team on the second chopper or coming by vehicle. It would be another twenty minutes until they reached the house they thought Crane may be holding Nick and Greg in and he took the opportunity to assess each member of the team.

Catherine was beyond worried and trying not to show it. Her maternal feelings towards the two missing members of their team made this situation particularly hard on her and she tried to stay distracted to keep from thinking about, fiddling with her shoulder strap, or her earphones, even checking her nails, anything to avoid to the difficult emotions that plagued her so she could get through the next few hours. She wanted to be prepared for whatever they may find there, but she was also scared to know.

Beside her Sara's emotional state was harder to read. A lot like Grissom she could become stone when necessary and she currently stared out the open sides of the chopper, as though admiring the desert landscape, but clearly lost in thought. She was known to get caught up in cases and make them personal but this one was personal without her even trying and the emotional toll seemed high. She was strung out but a veteran at hiding it.

Warrick was anxious. He constantly leaned out the side of the helicopter, trying to see how much farther they had to go, eager to get there and rescue their team mates, their friends. He wanted to take action and sitting quietly in a chopper wasn't enough. Nick and Greg were in trouble, in pain, and they were sitting comfortably, trying to get there in time. He shook his head and bit a nail. It wasn't enough.

Grissom was firm in appearance, showing nothing. He sat in the middle, staring straight ahead and able to see only the back of the pilot's head. At a quick glance he looked relaxed, casual, but upon closer inspection his fists were tightly clenched around his investigation kit, his shoulders were rigid, and his jaw was locked in tight anticipation. He was as scared as his team.

The tension in the chopper was thick and Brass knew no empty words of comfort would help any of them, or even himself. He was personally just as worried about the two men as the rest of them. He liked Nick a lot, he worked hard, solved a lot of cases and had a good sense of humor. Brass had worked his job a long time and apart from nearly being a murder suspect, Nick had never been a problem once for administration. That was impressive. On top of being a great worker though, he was a great guy, which made him easy to like. Then there was Sanders. The kid spent a lot of time in his lab with bad music playing but Brass had to admit, though he would not say it aloud, that he respected the lab rat. Greg wanted to make a difference, or so he said, by being out in the field, and Brass believed him. No one took that big a pay cut unless they really had a drive for what they were doing and that would make Greg a great CSI too. Also something he probably wouldn't admit aloud.

They were all worried for both Nick and Greg, but the scariest part was that they all knew what Nigel Crane was capable of, and could picture the worst possible state they may find their friends in. Which was what most of them were doing. It was a wonderful blessing when the chopper finally landed on the outskirts of the small neighbourhood, tearing them from their frightening thoughts. It was only a small group of houses but they were surrounded on two sides by impressive rock formations which had made the hamlet easy to miss on general sweeps.

The four CSI's were almost out of the chopper before Brass could stop them, shouting over the noise of the wings, "Hey, all of you wait! I know you carry guns but you are not police officers! Do not step a foot inside that house until you get the all clear, do you understand?" They all nodded but he didn't feel he really had his point across. "You go in there, you put Nick and Greg's life in greater danger, so stay here, all of you! I'll check in when it's clear."

The four looked defeated and frustrated but stayed where they were as Brass left to lead the first wave into the house.

His SWAT team was prepared and well trained, they knew the situation and the suspect and he felt fully confident going in with them. They circled the only house with any signs of life with the black car in front and prepared to move in. The house was quiet, no noticeable sounds, and so were they. The area was small so containment wouldn't be hard or clearing each room; it was only what they may find that worried Brass. Crane was unpredictable and dangerous; they were moving as fast as possible, knowing Crane always planned his crimes well before he committed them, they hoped the element of surprise would confuse him enough that they could take him out easily.

Lined up at the door the leader looked to him for confirmation to move in. Brass nodded from the back of the line, his own gun drawn and ready. The leader of the SWAT team held up a hand with four fingers up, counted down, and then organized hell bombarded the house. Windows shattered, doors collapsed, and furniture broke as the SWAT team moved in swiftly, guns at the ready for movement or attack. The bottom floor was only a kitchen and living room, both of which were cleared quickly.

"Upstairs, move! Move!" the captain yelled, leading the way. The first bedroom was cleared, the bathroom, and then they reached the closed door with the childish handwritten plaque reading "Nigel's Room". The door was easily kicked down, men shouting and rushing in with weapons drawn, Kevlar vests strapped on and helmet visors down; their precautions were unnecessary.

"We need a medic! We got live ones up here!" A voice yelled, and Brass's heart leapt into his throat as he rushed up the stairs. None of the SWAT team members knew Nick or Greg, he was smart enough to pick men for this job that would be objective, but that also meant that they may not know whether they had victim or suspect alive, and he had to see for himself.

As he reached the doorway he remembered to be professional; this was a recovery scene just like any other. He tried to forget that the victims were his colleagues and struggled to be objective. As he looked in to see the crime scene it was with the eyes of a police officer, calculating, detached and without emotion.

The room was in shambles, showing clear signs of a struggle or even torture of some kind. Broken glass was everywhere, a kicked over chair was in the middle of the room, there was blood spatter on a few walls and the floor and shredded children's pictures hung everywhere.

Through the herd of SWAT members he could make out the essential details and in his mind he catalogued the scene and its victims:

Nick Stokes, CSI level 3 was handcuffed to a radiator, seemingly unconscious. Blood and a crude bandage on his shoulder indicated a bullet or stab wound, with bruising on his face pointing to a beating; unconsciousness may have come about due to blood loss, head trauma, exhaustion or all three. A SWAT team member was kneeling beside him, checking his pulse and working on removing the handcuffs.

Greg Sanders, DNA lab tech and CSI in training was literally hanging in the center of the room. Also unconscious, arms strewn above his head and handcuffed together, he hung limply, blood dripping down his arms, chest and back, heavy bruising apparent throughout the body, clear signs of a severe beating over a long length of time. Two men were working hard to cut him down without further injury.

Both were blissfully alive, Brass could breathe.

The room's third occupant, Nigel Crane was a different story. His head was leaned straight up against the far wall with the rest of his body lying on the floor, his lifeless eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling. Blood had long since stopped pouring out from the huge cut along his jugular vein that had allowed his life energy to seep out. Stepping closer Brass could see the bloody knife that had taken Crane's life clutched tightly in the stalker's right hand.

He sighed, even more relieved. Nigel Crane was dead, but the pain he inflicted would live on in the two men that had somehow survived.

TBC

Well thank goodness, they're alive, I was worried for a moment. But the angst is not yet complete, you'll see what I mean later. It was so easy to write this chappy after that great episode of CSI, if only Greg had been hurt somehow in that opening scene, but his proposed fear of the ghetto was interesting, I love that he's a CSI now! Woo! Anyway, on to my reviewers, who are great. Great, great reviewers, Merry Christmas, Hanukkah to you all!

Silent bob(ette) – Great handle, first off. Secondly, great review made me laugh but also made me feel absolutely wonderful, so thank you. You may have a future in hypnotism, I just had to update after I got your awesome review.

??? – Uh, thanks for reviewing but I'm doing the best I can for working on two fics at once. I appreciate the offer/bribe of the KA DVD but I will just wait to get mine for Christmas thanks, I really don't know when I'll have an update for Fields of Battle but I'm trying.

Aurora – Yeah, I saw Stalker on Spike the other night too and to be honest, it was my first time seeing it on television. All the info I got that this fic is based on I got from an episode transcript, so now I feel way better writing since I've seen it. Hope this is a better ending for you.

Jackie – Yes, as I said, the site lost a few of my reviews sadly, they were upgrading or something at the time and I got email copies but I deleted them assuming the site would have them and then oddly, it didn't. But thank you for reviewing, and yes, there are two Jackies.

Mellaithwen – where exactly did you review from that you were freezing? Just curious, but thank you for the review, and do try to get to school.

Kenzimone – Yes, sadly your review did get deleted in the site's upgrade, but thank you so much for it, I read it once in email form and then deleted it. Lol, when I read Medieval Torture device I actually considered if it was possible to have Crane come upstairs with like The Rack but then thought, no, not really possible. But I considered it for you, and for the sake of angst. Thanks for the constant reviewing, much appreciated.

Jenben – Oh no, another deleted review. So sorry, but thanks. Yes, Greg is just barely holding on isn't he? Thank you for your lovely comments, I do try to juggle a lot of elements. So glad you're enjoying.

And to Frodolijactress, LXG-Gurl 121, Lostangel2, Elf Fanatic Lark, Brittany, prettyredneck85, Sillie, jade, just me, higherbeingfriendship, Hyperactive forever, SLynn, whiterose01, Blood-Spattered, Feline Feral thank you for your wonderful reviews, you are great people and deserve good things in life for feeding my review addiction and inspiring me with confidence.

Hopefully I can update before I'm off for Christmas break, but if I can't, happy holidays to you all! Goody


	8. What You Don't Know Can Scare You

Rescue, yah! But the angst is far from over, do not worry my friends. So much more angst to come, I can't even wait for it, so here's the next part of ...

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Bodies swarmed around him, organized and doing their job, moving fast, but Brass did not take notice of the SWAT team's activities. His eyes were fixed on Nigel Crane – dead. He would never see a courtroom, never face up to what he had done here, never feel guilt for his crimes – instead he had died relatively quickly at his own hand, throat slashed. Brass was glad he was dead but wasn't sure if this was justice. He was supposed to suffer a punishment of the law's choosing, not what he decided he deserved himself, but then again, since he was mentally unstable he never would have gotten the death penalty anyway so maybe this was better. At least he wouldn't hurt anyone again.

"Let's get him down, now guys, let's go! Where's that medic, he's still losing a lot of blood!"

The shouting drew Brass's attention and he tore his gaze away from the lifeless body of Nigel Crane to watch the progress of the SWAT team members. The rope holding Greg up from the ceiling was cut, his handcuffs were removed and his body was slowly lowered to the floor, one man carefully taking each of his arms trying to prevent further injury to his battered body. Brass stepped forward, breaking out of his brief stupor of shock and relief to take charge of the situation.

"Easy, don't lay him down, there's glass everywhere," he instructed, kneeling down to take the young man's pulse as a SWAT member leaned Greg against his chest, sure to hold his neck and head steady. Brass sighed when he felt the weak heartbeat still pumping through him, but frowned when he looked up and noticed the cop on Greg's left side, holding a bandage over the lab tech's stomach that was quickly turning red. Brass hadn't been able to see the wound from his previous vantage point.

"What is that? Is it bad?" he asked, still struggling to keep his professional tone. The kid looked like shit, bruises everywhere with just as many cuts and abrasions on every inch of skin plus there must have been a broken bone or two somewhere. But what was worst was the blood, it was everywhere; his pants were completely stained with it, not to mention the floor beneath him. Clearly he had been through hell but he was alive and he would stay that way.

"Looks like a stab wound, I don't think it hit anything vital but he's been bleeding out for awhile," the SWAT member answered, indicating the pool of blood at their feet that had dripped from Greg over the last few hours.

Brass nodded and since he didn't really want to look he turned to the doorway as he heard loud, rushed footsteps approaching. _If that's Grissom and his crew I'll kill them_, he thought. But it was the paramedics, rushing in to do their jobs. They had been forced to wait outside until the house was given the all clear but now they moved quickly, taking in the scene; there were six of them with two pairs hefting a stretcher between them prepared for anything, even this.

"Just these two," Brass instructed, pointing to Nick and Greg, then indicated Crane, "He's gone."

"All right, let's move," the chief medic ordered as they split into two groups and took charge of the victims. God Brass hated that word: victim. Just the connotation was horrible and not something he liked relating to two people he worked with. But that's what they were, victims of a madman's sick delusions and even with Crane dead Nick and Greg would still suffer, if not physically then mentally.

Noting he was in the way Brass stepped back to let the paramedics work, "Give them room guys," he ordered his men and swung his gaze around to check on Nick.

The Texan was no longer handcuffed and was quickly laid out and transferred to a waiting stretcher. The chief medic was cutting away the bandage already covering Nick's shoulder, and they all talked over top of him as they worked.

"Looks like we have a gunshot wound, no exit point, bullet's still in there. Minimal bleeding for now but it's not fresh he's lost a good amount already. Let's start him on antibiotics, reduce risk of infection early and then we'll start a drip."

Brass got closer; Nick was bruised, not as extensively as Greg but he clearly hadn't had an easy time of it either. The bullet wound wasn't pleasant but could have been a lot worse, bruising on his body was sporadic but dark and there was blood on his wrists; he had fought, Brass wasn't surprised. Judging from the somewhat relaxed demeanour of the medics Brass guessed there was little risk of fatality, but it was always better to check.

"How is he?"

The second paramedic looked up, "He needs a blood transfusion and the bullet out of his arm but it doesn't seem to have hit anything too serious. His pulse is good but if his pupils are any indication he's got a concussion, I'd say he's going to be all right eventually though."

"Thanks," Brass replied casually, downplaying his encompassing joy at the news that the CSI may come out of this unscathed, at least physically. Urgent shouting from a few feet away quickly changed his feelings though and the brief joy he had felt turned to ash.

"Let's move, we have to get this guy to a hospital _now_. We have serious blood loss and his pressure's dropping, thirty over one eighty."

Greg was motionless as he was being strapped onto the stretcher hurriedly, neck braced and railings up, his chest barely expanding, they were moving him out of the room in moments. Brass followed, shouting for the chief medic.

"Hey, is he going to be all right?" Brass shouted, running with them so as not to slow them down.

"We'll know better when we get him to a hospital," the man replied but from the look in Brass's eye he could tell the cop wasn't happy with that answer, so shrugged and continued apologetically, "We'll do our best, he's lost a lot of blood, not to mention all the internal problems he must have judging by these bruises. Right now, I'd have to say it's fifty/fifty."

They had reached the front door of the house, Brass's chest felt uncomfortably tight as he took a final look at the lab tech then nodded, understanding, "Okay, get him out of here."

The medics hadn't even slowed when he stopped and soon they were gone with their patient; he could hear the others coming down the stairs after them, most likely with Nick. At least he was far from critical.

Sighing he stepped outside and began to jog across the street, he had news to break to some worried CSIs.

* * *

The SWAT team had gone in a few minutes ago but the CSIs were yet to see or be told anything, and they were all working hard to hide their anxiety.

Catherine paced, arms crossed, Warrick sighed, tapping his foot impatiently, Sara ran her hands through her hair, trying not to scream in frustration, Grissom just watched the horizon, stoic.

They had moved closer than they were supposed to when the SWAT team went in, but they still kept their distance from the house, having not gotten the all clear yet. Each of them were worried and anxious but they waited and hated it. They could see nothing in the house's windows, all the activity seemed to be centered in rooms not facing the road, and they could only hear a muffled word or two of the loudest shouts coming from inside. Their hearts had leapt into their throats and they all moved even closer when they saw the paramedics had been sent in. The medics were good, it meant someone was alive to be cared for.

Minutes passed and still they were told nothing.

"Come on, what's going on in there?" Catherine mumbled irritably, needing answers as they all did.

Then they saw the paramedics come back out, working furiously on whoever was strapped to their stretcher, but they couldn't see who it was due to the neck brace and people in the way. It would have taken an act of God to keep them on the sidelines then.

As one they sprinted across the street towards the house, desperate to know what had happened, to find the fate of their friends but before they got there Brass intercepted them, keeping them from their goal.

"Wait, you can't go in yet," he said, already sounding tired.

"Brass, what's going on, who is that?" Grissom asked, indicating the stretcher being pushed towards the medi-vac chopper.

"Where are Nick and Greg?" Sara added before he answered.

Brass held up his hands to stop their questions, "Nick and Greg are alive, we got them, that's them on the stretchers. Crane's dead, looks like suicide."

"Are they okay?" Catherine asked, not having to elaborate who 'they' were.

Brass looked away first before replying, trying to sound positive, but he was never known for being comforting, "They think Nick's going to be all right, there's nothing too serious except a shoulder wound, but Greg … he …"

"What?" Warrick demanded. Brass decided not to sugarcoat it, knowing the CSIs would see right through him.

"They said it's fifty/fifty. He's been bleeding out awhile and there may be internal injuries, we're flying him out now, Nick'll be in the ambulance," he said, finally allowing some of his emotions to show in front of the only people that were as worried as he was.

"Oh God," Catherine mumbled, pacing again, unable to stand still. "So, he might not make it?"

"That's what they tell me," Brass said apologetically, both for delivering the news and not having more information. Catherine seemed to crumble a bit more as the others remained in a state of overwhelmed shock.

"Can we go with them?" Grissom asked, eyes drawn to the house once more as Nick was gurneyed out.

"Just one with each," Brass replied, knowing there was only so much room.

Grissom nodded and looked at his team, unhesitant with his decisions, "Catherine, go with Greg, Warrick, you got Nick. Keep us posted on how they are."

"Sure thing," Warrick promised, jogging away to catch up with Nick's stretcher.

"Thanks Gil," Catherine said before she went after Greg, only barely making it into the chopper before it lifted off.

Grissom watched them both leave and then turned to Sara, "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Sara replied automatically, not about to bring up the mental drain this was having on her or her desire to be with their friends when they woke up or sit with them as they recovered, but she understood why Gil had chosen Catherine and Warrick to leave.

"You feel like processing?"

She was tough, she could still function amidst this chaos and push aside her emotions until she had time to deal with them, "Yeah, let's go." And she really wanted to see Nigel Crane dead for herself.

"Get your kit, we'll make it fast and then go to the hospital, it'll be hours before we're allowed to see them anyway, might as well keep busy," Grissom said, sounding casual, as if that were the real reason he was willing to process such a personal case. He was convincing too, few would have realized that he just couldn't stand the waiting at the hospital, the uncertainty and powerlessness, and all that time to brood and ponder his emotions not to mention be plagued with endless 'what if' scenarios. It would be too hard, all that time to contemplate what he could have done differently, nothing to do but think of his own emotions, his worries and fears and have them escalate and grow. No, this job, the detached way he looked at crime scenes, was much easier and he welcomed it.

He looked at Brass who didn't appear to be going anywhere either; another man who avoided the complexities of his own feelings.

"Top floor?" Grissom asked and Brass nodded.

Sara had her kit and was back in a moment. Silently she and Grissom entered the house, Brass not far behind. They reached the top of the stairs and took a deep breath before continuing, believing they were prepared for anything. They may have been wrong.

* * *

Catherine could see the Medi-vac helicopter getting ready for take off and ran faster than she had in years to catch it. The paramedics inside were too busy working on Greg to notice her trying to make it there in time and they were rather startled when she suddenly latched on to the railing and pulled herself inside.

"Who are you?" the first medic asked, surprised.

She took out her badge as she struggled to see around the man and get a glimpse of Greg, "Catherine Willows, Crime Scene Investigator."

The man rolled his eyes, incredulous, "Look, I know you guys like collecting your evidence as fast as possible but we're trying to keep this guy alive so if you could wait until later to gather your samples …"

"No, that's not it. He's a friend, I work with him, I'll stay out of the way, I promise, I just have to be here," Catherine said earnestly. The medic could tell it was true and that she was honestly concerned, he indicated a seat she could take close to Greg's head but out of their way.

"Thank you," she said sincerely and moved to sit down but stopped when she got her first real glimpse of the young CSI in training. "Oh god, Greg."

He looked far worse than she had ever seen him, even after the lab explosion. Whereas then his face had been covered only in smoke residue, this time there were small abrasions on his face and arms, with larger ones near his stomach, seemingly inflicted more exactly than the others. Bruising was extensive to say the least, there were few parts of his body that weren't a purplish brown, especially his face and chest, and Catherine understood what Brass had meant by possible internal injuries, she didn't see how he couldn't have damage internally. Clearly he had suffered; she thought he looked like pain.

She was so stunned by his appearance that she had to be led to her seat by one of the paramedics.

"How's he doing?" she asked on reflex; she thought her voice sound automatic, unfeeling despite the wealth of emotions shifting through her.

The man that answered didn't look up as he worked, "He's lost a lot of blood and who knows what's happening internally. He has a few broken ribs but his breathing sounds good so it's not likely he punctured a lung. There's also some severe head trauma. We'll do our best his chances aren't good."

A female medic saw the harrowing effect this had on Catherine when she dropped her head into her hands and wanted to distract her somehow.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Greg, Greg Sanders, why?" Catherine responded.

The medic smiled, appearing reassuring, "It's good to know in case he wakes up and we have to talk to him. Talking helps sometimes."

Catherine nodded, understanding then turned from the woman and reached out to stroke Greg's blood matted hair, trying to hold back her tears at the thought of what had been done to him.

"Hey Greg, it's Catherine, we found you kid. You just hold on all right. That son of a bitch Crane is dead, he won't hurt anyone again. You're safe now, Nick too, so just stick in there, don't let go on us," she whispered this as she continued to stroke his hair, it was supposed to be a comforting gesture but all she saw when she looked at him was pain and nothing could change that. Bruises and wounds like these didn't just happen quickly, it indicated hours of torture, of pain that never should have happened. Her emotional barriers broke down at the injustice of it, the cruelty. He was so young, he didn't deserve the horrible things that kept happening to him. Her hands began to shake as tears slipped down her cheek and she leaned forward, oblivious of the medics, to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "You're safe now … you're safe, I promise."

The paramedics continued working, accustomed to concerned friends and family speaking to their patients, they didn't mind as long as they stayed out of the way.

"How's that drip coming?" the chief medic asked.

"It's in, how's the bleeding?" the woman asked.

The chief removed the bandage he had over the stab wound and checked, "Slow, but only because he's lost so much. HB's still too low, he's in shock. Get a mask on him."

Catherine watched as they did all this, put on the oxygen mask, inserted the IV, and attached the monitors, all with a detached interest, as though all of it was so common, it happened every day and it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean Greg was in serious condition, it didn't mean he was barely hanging on, it didn't mean they could lose him because of the delusions of some psychopath. It was just procedure she thought, they do it for everyone, he'll be fine, he always bounces back. She actually smiled when she realized she had thought that because she remembered when she had met Greg when he first started, his enthusiasm and energy had forced her to comment on his likeness to Tigger, always bouncing around. The thought encouraged her, yes, Greg would bounce back, and play his music, and crack his horrible jokes, and earn the CSI certification he was working so hard to get because that would be fair, that would be right. That was what had to happen, all other possibilities were not to be conceived.

"Pressure's dropping."

Harsh reality had a way of easily destroying Catherine's wishful imaginings as things in the helicopter suddenly became hectic.

The consistent beeps that had filled the cabin for the past few minutes slowed and then abruptly disappeared to be replaced with a horrifying, steady wail. Beside her, the female paramedic said the most horrible words imaginable:

"He's flatlined."

Catherine prayed.

* * *

Warrick sighed; he was getting really tired of riding with Nick to the hospital. Technically this was only the second time, but it was still two times too many, especially since both occasions were caused by that sick bastard, Nigel Crane. Trying to focus elsewhere for a moment, Warrick looked out the back window, watching the desert pass by them, but as always his gaze eventually settled on Nick, beyond thankful his friend was alive, but astronomically angry about the state they had found him in.

He watched the paramedics treat the injuries as best they could. The bruises were extensive, stretching across his face, chest and arms, but there was nothing to be done about those, the bullet wound had been cleaned and bandaged, and an IV drip of antibiotics was started, which was about all they could do before they got to the hospital where the bullet could be removed, and then there was the true sign of Nick's imprisonment, his wrists. One medic was cleaning and bandaging them now, it almost looked like a poor suicide attempt. Clearly Nick had been handcuffed for some time and judging by the cuts and blood on his wrists he had definitely fought back, which didn't surprise Warrick, he knew his friend wouldn't go down without a fight, but was thankful the cuts weren't deep and no arteries had been hit. He asked the medic and he had said there would be no scars. That was important, scars were reminders and he knew Nick wouldn't need those.

"You're sure he's going to be all right?" Warrick asked for what he knew was at least the third time.

"Yes sir, none of his injuries are severe; I don't see why there would be any problems in his recovery, I don't even think all this blood is his," the medic remarked. It had been meant to be reassuring but Warrick was not comforted; if the blood wasn't Nick's he knew the only other person's it could be and it wasn't something he wanted to think about.

Seeing Nick so beat up, so weak, was very hard though, and Warrick cringed just thinking about what he and Greg must have gone through to end up like this. It must have been Hell, pure and simple. He felt his anger rise as he looked at his friend; broken. It wasn't right, Nick didn't deserve this. He was a good guy, he treated everyone with respect, he worked hard and people loved him; it was sick that it was those very attributes which drew Nigel Crane to Nick in the first place, which made the stalker idolize him and caused Nick to be the victim of Crane's delusions. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but Warrick knew it was something Nick could have lived without from Nigel Crane.

As they made their way to the hospital Warrick was lost in thought, but not so much that he didn't notice as Nick's head began to lull and his eyes started to flicker. He was on his feet in a second, practically pushing the paramedic out of the way to get to Nick's side.

"Nick, can you hear me? You there man?" he asked intensely, gripping Nick's good shoulder to draw his attention if he was about to regain consciousness.

"Take it slow with him if he does wake up, he's going to be disoriented," the medic warned but did not dissuade him from talking to him. Warrick gave a barely detectable nod, not looking away as he saw Nick's eyes start to open.

His eyes were glazed and he was clearly confused, but Warrick still couldn't keep the smile from his face as Nick woke up, another wonderful reminder that he was indeed very much alive.

"Hey man, good to see you. It's Warrick, it's okay, we're in an ambulance, you're safe, you're gonna be fine," he said, sounding assuring and believing it. Nick nodded, mostly indicating he understood where he was, and opened his mouth to speak but his throat was so dry it turned into a coughing fit, and his face creased with pain as he was reminded of his injuries.

Warrick took a water bottle offered by a paramedic and gave Nick a drink, "Here man, take it easy."

Nick drank just enough to wet his mouth and throat, the water seemed to rejuvenate him, and his eyes were less clouded but heavyset with worry as he was finally able to ask, "Greg?"

Warrick's stomach clenched and he looked away for a moment, preparing his answer and hoping Nick was still disoriented enough not to notice his hesitation.

"We got him, he's all right. They flew him out in the chopper, you know how impatient he is, couldn't wait for the ambulance, you can see him when we get to the hospital," Warrick promised, fervently hoping he was not lying. He did not forget what Brass had said – a fifty/fifty chance – but he desperately tried not to dwell on it. It was an impossible future in his eyes, far removed from reality. Greg couldn't die, the doctors were wrong he convinced himself because if he did the ramifications would destroy everything, their team, their work – everything. So he didn't think about, did not let himself imagine the worst case scenario, instead he kept his focus on Nick, it was him who needed him now though he sent out prayers for Greg's recovery and well being.

Nick had not noticed Warrick's hesitation though, or his fear, he had heard only that Greg was alive. His sigh of relief at the words sounded like it came from the depth of his heart, it was deep and seemed to expel all the tension from his body, deflating him and smoothing the lines of worry on his face, "Thank god, oh Jesus, thank god. I thought he was dead. I thought that bastard killed him."

This Nick had said to himself, revelling in his own peace of mind, but Warrick still felt the urge to reply, "Yeah, he's alive. You did good Nick, we never would have found you if you hadn't made that call to Grissom. But we got there in time, Greg's a fighter, he stuck in there."

A sad laugh escaped Nick's throat.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice tinged with sadness but also a good dose of pride.

Knowing Greg was alive and safe had dispelled the last of the soul encompassing fear and tension that had plagued Nick throughout this entire ordeal. He suddenly found that it was replaced by a profound sense of relief and joy but also by an overwhelming urge to rest and allow his wounds, of body and mind to heal. Warrick saw his eyes were getting heavy again but had to tell him one last thing before he fell asleep.

"Nick man, I don't know if you were awake or not when it happened, but Nigel Crane's dead too, he won't be back again. He killed himself."

There was no sign of surprise or further relief in Nick's eyes as they drifted shut as this news was delivered and it was clear to Warrick that Nick had already known Crane was dead. Yet he still shook his head once, as if in denial of the fact and started to speak. Warrick leaned closer as Nick whispered his last words before falling back to unconsciousness.

"No … Crane … didn't kill himself."

He took in a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of his chest expanding with wonderful oxygen and no longer being constricted by his own fear or pain. There were no knots of tension in his stomach, no mind numbing terror that a madman was about to attack him or his best friend. There was just safety and comfort, it was over and he was so tired.

"I did."

Sleep overtook him, and Warrick sat stunned.

TBC

I love cliffhangers, well, writing them at least. Hope I was able to shock a few of you and for those wondering if we find out what happens in the room, the answer is a big yes. It's coming next chapter which I'm sure most of you will stick around for. On to personal replies:

Silent Bob(ette) – Laughed so hard at your reaction, I could picture it clearly, very funny. Oh, my own junkie, I think I will make you give me your car before you get the next chappy then. j/k. Thanks for the wonderfully long review, and I also think Greg should have gotten hurt somehow in the ghetto, but I'm mostly just glad he was in the eppy so much.

Jenben – lol, I skip beginning chapters all the time, I don't blame you in the least, I find it happens a lot in the LotR fics I read so don't worry about it. They'll be lots of comfort coming up too, so just don't skip over it.

iHUGtrees – My ideas? Mostly at night, when I'm trying to sleep I picture visions of h/c in my head and plot points develop as I ponder – this usually makes me not able to sleep for awhile because I have to keep getting up and writing down the ideas, but it's worth it.

Aurora – Yeah, I never saw it, but the episode transcript was really detailed and I checked out the screencaps. I'm glad I have seen it now though, there's nothing better than the real thing angst-wise.

LXG-Gurl121 – Oh yes, what happened in the room will definitely be revealed, but I must leave you guessing for at least a chapter or two to make it interesting. Lab explosion, such a great ep, but could have used a little more concern for our poor little Greggo, though him in a hospital bed, great!

BabyAlyx96 – Thank you for that … astonished sounding review. Made me smile.

Felina-Feral – Nigel's death will be revealed shortly, but one must be patient. As for Pain of Love, wow, haven't thought about that fic in awhile. Unfortunately I'm horrible for starting and not finishing my fics and Pain of Love is actually quite far down my list of ones to finish up so I really can't see it happening unless I somehow can make a living off writing fanfiction in the near future. (that would be sooo cool) Sorry.

Jackie – yep, Nigel's death will not remain a secret for long. But all the CSIs will have to share in the telling of it, just to build the angst.

Kenzimone – lolololol, convenient take anywhere medieval torture devices, that's great. Us angst lovers would be in heaven, you're right. And yes, lots more angst to come. If there's no angst, what's the point?

Djembe – Oh, I wouldn't dream of jumping right to the hospital, and lose all the dramatic tension of the waiting and the sitting by the bedside and the medics working, so much to write about. So no worries, as you saw, the time lapse elves have no power on my muse, it is immune. And no, you didn't miss the point, the scene was left out to leave you guessing but I'll be telling that part next chapter I think, I'm just spreading the angst out as much as possible. Thank you for your great reviews though, always a joy to read.

Mellaithwen – Oh, it was season five episode, No Humans Involved, I think it was called. It was great cause Greg was in the field and he discovered the body and there was a shootout (but no one was hurt except gang members) and it made Greg kind of scared of the ghetto, but he also had this great part where he talked about how he doesn't carry a gun cause it's for cops and overall a lot of great Greg moments. Thoroughly enjoyable, him as a CSI is spectacular, he gets a lot more screen time.

My thanks to Elf fanatic lark, bree1387,HyperactiveForever, whiterose01, dee, cupotrover, lamako, higherbeingfriendsfan, sillie, SLynn, and Kristen999 for your great reviews as well. You are each getting an extra gift from Santa, I'll wrote him and told him so.

Sadly I will not have a computer when I go home later this week (I leave it in my dorm room and can't lug it back with me) so I won't be doing any writing until I get back from Christmas break. Sorry about the cliffie, but it'll give you time to ponder what will happen I guess. Thank you all for your interest thus far and I will try to get something out as soon as I get back home on the 3rd. Happy Holidays, Goody.


	9. Not Just Another Crime Scene

Yeah, I took a little writing break, I'm sorry. The muse didn't really strike me. And to those that I promised you would find out what would happen in the room, well you will, but not quite this chapter. This chap is full of hints and clues, and then the detailed explanation, as recollected by Nick, will be in the next chapter. Well, you've all been waiting so here's the next chapter of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

"Woo hoo, yeah, Falcons rule!" Greg waved his foam finger around enthusiastically as his team scored what he called a 'too sweet touchdown'. It was a perfect day for a football game and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Man, did you see that Nick, it was amazing!"

He turned to his left expecting to see a crestfallen Nick – he was a Vikings fan after all – and was beyond surprised to find the seat beside him empty.

"Nick? Nick!" Greg looked all around him, down the aisles, up the stairs and at the vendors but did not see his friend anywhere in the stadium.

For a long moment he focussed solely on the empty seat beside him, sure Nick had been there moments ago. He had poked him with his foam finger for about the fiftieth time and had fought to keep the Texan from taking it from him. _So where did he go? _Greg wondered.

He looked up from the seat and the world became a vacuum. All sound disappeared and suddenly he was alone in the huge stadium becoming more nervous by the second. It didn't disturb him that all the people were gone, that somehow didn't seen significant, he only cared where Nick was.

Then the world began shifting around him. Colors blurred into one another, sky melded with ground and the earth tilted for just a moment. Slowly the scenery began to reconstruct itself into a facsimile of reality and Greg found himself in a well lit hallway, standing in front of a picture window with people bustling around him in lab coats, none paying any attention to him.

"Where …?" he asked aloud of no one. At first he thought he was in the lab, the hallway was a little different, but there were lab techs and machinery everywhere. The smell was wrong though. It wasn't just a chemical smell like he was used to at work, it was more … medical.

Gulping, he took a step towards the picture window that had appeared in front of him to see what lay beyond it. His stomach clenched and eyes widened at the sight.

"No … Nick?"

Nick lay still on the hospital bed, eyes closed, bruised and battered but breathing, no machines or equipment helping him. Greg noticed the cast on Nick's wrist and realized where he was. After Nigel Crane had attacked Nick the first time Greg had come to visit and this is how he had first seen him, through the window. Nick, the rock, the infallible, the friend, broken. The thought made him feel guilty because he knew that wasn't right; Nick was not broken, not completely at least. Despite how badly his body was hurt, Nick's strong personality and spirit would be intact. Greg instinctually knew Nick would be all right, he would not be bitter and feel like the world was against him, or angry that he had been put through this hell, he may be afraid but he would overcome that, he was just that kind of guy. It reminded Greg of something he couldn't believe he remembered from high school – "a man can be destroyed but not defeated." Nick was never one to accept defeat after all.

Greg smiled with the thought that Nick would be okay, but then he remembered their real day that had been far less than perfect. Memories quickly cascaded over him, frightening in their detail – Nick would not be okay because Nigel Crane was back. Crane had hurt them both, could still be hurting them and with this thought Greg's surroundings changed again. His breathing became harsh as he grew agitated, afraid. Nick began to fade from view, as did the hospital around him. Everything faded to black and he clenched his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing but he was gasping now; he suddenly felt heavy and he knew he was somewhere else, somewhere he didn't want to be.

"Hello Gregory."

Nigel Crane.

"No, no, no," Greg didn't open his eyes, if he didn't look maybe it would go away. A new burning slice across his chest ruined his plan. He screamed and opened his eyes as Crane's knife slid further down his chest. Wide awake from fear and pain he saw where he was and felt his chest tighten even more.

His arms were still secured above his head, preventing escape, Nigel Crane stood directly in front of him grinning, holding up the cursed knife and lighter, the room was just as dark, just as dirty and terrifying as before but something was missing and unfortunately it wasn't the pain. He could see the radiator behind Crane, just where it had been all the time, but that was all that was there.

"Nick?" he asked softly, wondering what could have happened to him, what this psycho may have done to him. He was beyond surprised when he heard a calm Texas drawl answer from his left.

"I'm right here buddy."

Greg's head shot around, relieved then confused. Nick was here and he was all right, too all right. There were no bruises anywhere, no blood, he was even wearing a different set of clothes, clean and fresh.

"What?" Greg couldn't seem to form full sentences, he was shocked and overwhelmed. Nick only smiled, the wide, amused sympathetic smile Greg often saw on his face. It was wrong though, something was wrong.

"Look, we need to talk," Nick began, placing a comforting hand on Greg's shoulder. It was the eyes he realized, they were lifeless, soulless. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and you just aren't the kind of friend I need right now."

"W… what are you talking about?" Greg sputtered, breath hitching. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"It's just Nigel here has made some good points, really got me thinking. You really aren't worthy of my friendship, especially not now, if ever. I mean look at you, bleeding everywhere, defenceless and … are those tears in your eyes? Now come on, I can't be seen with someone like you," Nick scoffed at the idea and a look passed between him and Crane.

"I told you," Crane said, smiling.

"You did, you tried so hard to warn me, you're a good friend Nigel. Just wish I had listened. Now I have to cut you loose Greg."

"Nick, wait," Greg pleaded, eyes wide. Nick slapped him.

"Now come on, don't embarrass yourself any more than you have to by pleading and begging, some things just have to be done." Still smiling, Nick willingly and gladly took the knife Crane offered him.

Greg could not believe this was happening and what was wrong with his chest, he couldn't breathe at all.

"Clearly I have to move on, but I can't let you just keep following me around like a puppy, it's time to end all this."

Greg wanted to say something, talk to him, but there was no air in his lungs, felt like there hadn't been for a long time. He could only watch as Nick continued, unhesitant, Crane behind him, grinning madly, satisfied.

Nick shrugged almost apologetically, then stepped towards him, placed one hand on Greg's shoulder and touched the blade to his skin.

"Bye Greggo."

The knife slid into his stomach and …

"He's breathing!"

"Oh God," Catherine collapsed against the helicopter wall, sick with fear and exhausted with worry. She put a hand over her eyes and had to turn away as the medics kept working, hearing them clearly but unable to watch anymore. God, she had seen a lot in her days but nothing prepared her for this; watching them take that huge adrenaline needle and stab it directly into Greg's heart. It was an image that would stay with her for a lot of nights but she thanked God it had worked. The adrenaline had awoken Greg's systems; his heart was pounding again and he was breathing on his own.

After a few more deep breaths she willed herself to turn around and face the friend she was praying for. She wanted to believe he would be all right, but he didn't look like he ever would be again; his face was creased with pain and there was so much blood and so many injuries. How would he ever recover? He was already so still, not a natural state for Greg under any circumstances, and she couldn't take the thought of him staying that way forever. She wanted to take comfort in the medics, they were professionals, they knew the odds, but their words crushed her heart.

"Keep those paddles charged, we could lose him again any second."

"Breathing's not improving."

"He's dropping again."

And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, not alone. The masks, the monitors, the needles, the IVs and paddles, she knew they were keeping Greg alive, but it seemed so brutal, so wrong. Turning to face the helicopter wall again she pulled out her cell phone and dialled, hoping desperately for an answer, a comforting word was all she needed.

"Brown."

"Warrick, it's Cath, how's Nick?" she asked, focussing on his voice and her own, anchoring herself to the moment and not the chaos happening behind her to keep Greg alive.

"They said he's going to be all right, he even woke up for a minute, asked about Greg. How's he doing?" Warrick asked, knowing she would not be calling without a reason but trying to sound calm about it.

Catherine turned around. The paramedics seemed to be moving in slow motion, she could barely see Greg's chest rising. Tears formed.

"He …"

Her hesitation made Warrick fear the worst, "Cath, what happened?" he demanded, no longer calm.

"Warrick he flatlined, he was dead. He was dead and I just stood there. They … they brought him back but he's getting worse. They don't know … Oh God, they're shocking him again."

Catherine could not hear Warrick talking to her through the phone anymore, she could only see Greg as the paddles came down on his bare chest, sending thousands of watts of electricity through him. His body lifted off the table, giving a devastating illusion of consciousness, but when he came down he was once again breathing on his own.

"… Cath? What's happening? Talk to me."

"I'm here," she whispered. "He's still alive, they got him back. Warrick, I don't know how long I can take this."

"Easy, take it easy. We'll all get through this, everything will be all right, okay?"

Catherine wanted to believe him but it was so hard, "When? Tell me when Warrick. When is it going to be all god damn right, cause I've been waiting a _long_ time."

"I don't know, but we got to be strong and wait. So be strong for Greg, stay with him, keep him with us, I know you can do this Cath."

And she could. She had needed Warrick's calm, his unyielding faith in her, but she could be here now, and would stay there.

"Yeah, I can, I'll be all right. I have to let you go, we're almost at the hospital."

"Okay, I'll find you when I get there," he promised.

"Thanks, I'll see you soon." She closed the phone and retook her seat by Greg's head. The medics had slowed in their administrations and she could feel the ease of tension in the chopper.

"How is he doing?" she asked of anyone, never turning from Greg's face as she stroked back his hair, cautious of the bruise along his temple.

"A little better, he's stabilized for now, the doctors will be able to tell you more after surgery," a voice to her left replied; still she did not turn away. She was there for Greg; she already felt as though she had turned away from him once and she would not leave again.

Her composure was solid now and she forced a smile on her face, reassuring and comforting, she would be the pillar of support.

"You listen to me Greggo, you are not going to die. There's so much you still have to do kiddo. You're going to get your certification and then you're going to be a great CSI. You've earned it, you've worked so hard and we're all proud of you. So you're not going anywhere Greg, and we're all going to be here for you when you wake up, you hear me. So just hang on."

As she finished her final plea she reached down, careful of the IV, and squeezed his hand.

"Don't leave us, Greggo."

She gasped. He squeezed back.

* * *

Sara took a deep breath to steady herself as she followed Grissom and Brass into the 'little child's room of horrors', only half a step behind them. Her trained eye took in the scene and she subconsciously came to the most likely conclusion of how it came to be that way, with everything she pictured involving pain. She saw shards of glass, torn pictures, almost no furniture, Nigel Crane's dead body and blood, blood, blood.

_Greg and Nick's_, she thought pangingly.

_No_, she reprimanded herself, _don't think like that, stay objective. It's just another crime scene. It's just another crime scene. It's just another crime scene._

She repeated the mantra to herself as she began processing and going on automatic as she began snapping pictures, finding it helped to detach her from the crime and the people she knew. At least, it helped until Brass began explaining the scene as they had found it.

"Crane hasn't been moved, far as I know no one touched him. Nick was here, handcuffed," Brass's voice became subtly softer, respectful, as he pointed to the radiator, "Greg was here," he continued, pointing out the rope above the puddle of blood, "also handcuffed."

Sara closed her eyes and swallowed, unable to keep the images that she didn't want to see from forming in her mind: Nick, usually cocky and supportive, trapped, shot, defenceless. Forced to bend to the will of the madman that was obsessed with him. Greg, always smiling, always energetic, restrained, bleeding, tortured by a man he did not know for reasons unknown. Dying. Nick would have been able to do nothing as Greg died in front of him only three feet away. So little distance, but so little choice; they had to watch each other suffer, it was no wonder they were both unconscious when they were found, it was so much better than the alternative of being awake.

The images hurt and tears tried to form in her eyes, but she fought them back and forced the images away. Forced herself to work.

_Just another crime scene, just another crime scene, just another crime scene._

"My god," Grissom whispered softly, his face contorted in a rare visage of disgusted shock and empathy as he looked over the scene. This never happened to him, he was always so distant from the crime, so detached. He thought he could work this professionally but as he examined the pool of blood on the floor, knowing full well that it was Greg's, and he was possibly dying in a helicopter somewhere, he began to doubt that he could stay objective, let alone calm and focussed. Maybe this was a mistake.

Sara could read the doubt in his eyes and sighed, knowing it was time to stop pretending like it didn't affect them, like this was normal.

"Come on Gris," Sara said suddenly, breaking him out his deep thoughts as he stared at the room's contents. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right. Nick and Greg deserve that much."

She felt strong as she said it, hefting her camera up for her first few shots of the room. Grissom was noticeably surprised for a moment but followed suit, snapping on a pair of gloves and taking out the ALS.

"You mark the glass, I'm going to start on the stairs," Grissom said, following Sara's lead and slipping back into professional tones.

She nodded, already engrossed in her work.

_Just another crime scene._

She took an overview shot of the room and then moved straight to the body of Nigel Crane. Technically they couldn't touch it until the coroner arrived to pronounce the death but they could still photograph. She lifted the camera up and focussed but lowered it before snapping a shot. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set as she looked at him. He was dead and she still hated him. He had hurt their team once before when he attacked Nick and that had been bad enough, but this was so much worse. Crane had inflicted pain purposely, with calculated movements and now Nick was hurt again, probably mentally more than physically, and Greg could die. Not surprisingly she could not feel sorry Crane was dead, she only wished it had happened sooner.

She snapped her pictures, focussing on Crane's dead, open eyes, slit throat, and the knife he tightly clutched.

When she finished her pictures a grimace adorned her features, despising Crane for causing so much pain.

Grissom was across the room and never heard as she whispered her thoughts about this man and what he had done to their team:

"Bastard."

_Not just another crime scene._

* * *

"Nick, can you hear me?"

_Yes_, Nick wanted to answer. He could hear Warrick clearly, but he found he couldn't talk, could barely keep his eyes open actually. He didn't even know where he was to be honest, the exhaustion and pain medication were doing a number on him, but he _could_ hear Warrick and wanted to answer.

Thankfully, Warrick judged from his eyes that he was at least semi-coherent and continued, "Nick, they're taking you into surgery now, you're going to be fine but they gotta get that bullet outta your arm. I'll be right here waiting when you get out, okay?"

Nick tried to open his mouth but talking would take so much energy, he settled on nodding and attempting a weak smile which Warrick returned.

"I'll be right here," Warrick promised once more, getting father away.

That was the last Nick saw of his friend as his stretcher was pushed through the ER doors and Warrick was told he could go no further. Nick wanted to ask where they were going but he was so tired he didn't care, so he contented himself to watch the lights pass overhead, oblivious to the IVs being inserted, or the monitors being attached. He only knew exhaustion as his eyes drifted shut into what would not be pleasant dreams.

* * *

Warrick sighed as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, having done all he could for the time being. After taking one final long look at the ER doors he left the waiting area and headed for the front desk, having one more friend to check in on.

"Hey, I'm looking for Gregory Sanders, patient, came in about twenty minutes ago," Warrick said as he leaned against the counter, noting the nurse on duty was cute but in no state of mind to even consider flirting. She checked the chart.

"Oh, the fly in, we don't get many of those. He's on third being prepped for surgery," she replied.

"Thanks," Warrick jogged to the elevator. He knew it was too early to hear from a doctor on Greg's condition but he did not want to leave Catherine waiting by herself any longer than necessary. After visiting a second information desk he was led into a doored off waiting room where he found Catherine staring distantly through a picture window.

"Cath?" he said softly.

She turned around quickly, eyes red but she had long stopped crying, hair somehow still perfect as always, but she looked haggard. Screw a double shift, she looked like she had done a quadruple; Warrick realized he probably didn't look much better.

"Hey," she replied softly, meant as greeting and as a way of saying 'thanks for being here'. She smiled and moved towards him; they hugged. It was a long embrace, strictly of comfort and support which they both needed. The tension seemed to seep out of Catherine as he held her tightly, and he gladly took the strain from her.

When he released her Warrick looked up through the window for the first time and found it looked in on a hospital room. Most surprising was the occupant of the room; Greg lay motionless in the white hospital bed. Almost every piece of visible skin was bandaged. The non-bandaged parts were deeply bruised or very pale, there were two IVs in his arms, one clear, the other blood and machines beeped all around him. He looked horrible, tortured, but he was alive.

"I thought they were taking him in for surgery," Warrick said, surprised. Greg's heart had stopped twice on the trip to the hospital, he assumed they would rush him right to the Operating Room upon arrival.

Catherine shook her head as she left the strong arms and composed herself once more after her brief moment of release.

"He's lost too much blood, they have to get a few pints in him before they take him in," she explained, having already questioned the doctors.

"Refuelling him. Do they know if he's going to be all right?" Warrick asked, leaving one arm around Catherine's shoulder after they broke apart from their embrace.

"Not yet. They won't know for sure until after surgery, but he's fighting, holding on," she said, not mentioning when he had squeezed her hand but remembering it and drawing strength from that, taking it as a sign that Greg would not give up. "It almost doesn't seem real you know, like this is too impossible to be true."

"Yeah, I know, it's hard to believe. It's not everyday you got a madman kidnapping your friends in broad daylight. Unfortunately we got our proof sitting right in front of us," Warrick said, indicating Greg, who looked so small and weak, though they prayed for him to be strong.

There was silence for a moment before Catherine asked, "How's Nick?"

"They said he'll be fine, they're removing the bullet. They don't think it hit anything vital so his arm should be one hundred percent again once it heals up," Warrick replied, sticking to the facts. But Catherine didn't want facts, she wanted observations, thoughts, opinions.

"What about mentally?"

"Good I guess, all things considered. He wasn't awake long, just asked about Greg, was relieved he was alive and pretty okay with Crane being dead. He'll be all right, they both will, they're tough."

Warrick said this strongly but in the back of his mind he wondered and did not mention Nick's ominous last words, not certain exactly how coherent the Texan had been at the time of his murder confession. If it was true, well, that was definitely a few more mental barriers that Nick would have to go through, but that could wait to be dealt with. Right now the physical well being of their friends was the most important, all other issues could be solved as long as Nick and Greg were alive.

Catherine's mind began to wander to the rest of their team, "I wonder how Grissom and Sara are doing."

"Should we call them?"

"Why, to tell them everything we don't know?" Catherine retorted harshly. She shut her eyes and swallowed, immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Don't worry about it, you're right. And I can't exactly say I'm eager to find out what they found either," Warrick replied. Looking at Nick and Greg, it was clear they went through Hell, he didn't need the experience laid out for him in detail.

"It seems wrong, but I kind of wonder what they found."

* * *

"Hey Grissom, Sara. I got here as soon as I could."

Grissom looked up from his inspection of the blood spatter on the baseball bat he had found on the stairs, "Hey David. There's no rush, the body's over there."

Sara was processing around Crane, marking glass and snapping pictures. David nodded and crossed the room to join her.

She smiled as best she could for him, "Hey David."

"Hi. Um, is there any word on Nick and Greg yet?" David asked haltingly. They were not team members or friends by any means, but David still knew both of the CSIs fairly well and wanted to know if they were okay, something the police had been unwilling to divulge to him.

Sara stopped taking pictures and stared at the floor for a moment before answering.

"Nick should be fine, it's just some kind of shoulder injury. Greg, we're not sure what even happened to, but the medics said it was fifty/fifty when they found him." Her voice was monotone, automatic, as if she wasn't letting her mind consider what the words she was saying actually meant. Instead she continued snapping pictures and marking glass.

"Oh, all right. Let's take a look at this body then," David said, lifting his kit and moving to crouch next to the body.

"Nigel Crane, I'm sure you've heard of him. Looks like suicide," Sara said pretty much unnecessarily as she knelt on Crane's other side. Now that David was here to pronounce the death they could process the body, which she was eager to do.

"So this is the guy that's responsible for … all this?" David asked, almost in awe that this small man could be responsible for all the chaos that had happened that day. The police station and crime lab had been in a frenzy all day over this case; apparently a lot of cops had lined up for the chance to be part of the rescue team. Despite the dire circumstances, it was nice to see that the police considered the CSIs part of their group and were eager to protect them like their own people.

"Yeah, he's our kidnapper, we got him on tape. But technically, right now he's our victim."

"Well, first impression, I'd have to guess COD was blood loss from the massive slash in his jugular. Liver temp suggests he's been dead a little over two hours."

As David wrote on his chart Sara photographed and then removed the bloody knife from Crane's right hand to inspect it.

"Ten to one on this being our murder weapon," she commented, about to bag it.

David looked up from his inspection, eyebrow furrowed, "I'll take that bet."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked, surprised.

"Well, off hand it doesn't look like this wound was caused by that knife or any other. Suicides like this are almost always one long slice across the throat," David explained as he examined the wound. "This has no slash pattern at all, it looks like it was one hard stab into the neck, almost unheard of. And it doesn't look like it was caused by that knife, probably something wider and thinner."

Sara stood up, confused. A bloody knife in the vic's hand, but it wasn't what killed him. She scoured the floor, noting how the bright yellow markers she had placed were impossible to miss.

"So, wasn't killed by the knife," she knelt down and shone her light on the shards of mirror. "Piece of glass then, maybe."

David nodded, "Yeah, that would work."

"Grissom, you get that?" Sara called out as she started looking over each piece of glass, noting any with traces of blood.

Grissom was still on the far side of the room, inspecting the bat and doorframe, "Yeah, I heard."

"I haven't seen any shards that looked big enough to cause that kind of wound, or bloody enough for that matter," Sara reported as she continued looking over the floor.

David looked up and pointed to a spot near the radiator, "What's that over there?"

Sara turned and dismissed the idea, "Used to be Greg's cell phone, there's not much left of it. Nothing sharp or big enough to do that kind of damage anyway."

She looked for a few more minutes while David finished up and then announced quite certainly, "I've marked all this glass, if that's what killed him it's not here."

Grissom turned to her and his eyebrows went up, a clear sign he was thinking, "At least, it's not somewhere we can see it. It could be under the body."

Sara looked at David who appeared as though he wanted to finish writing in his chart but sighed when he saw the look she gave him. He put the chart away to finish filling in later and motioned for two medics to help him move the body. Sara watched as Nigel Crane was hefted onto a stretcher and moved out of the room, not offering him a second glance, then knelt down to inspect the floor beneath; no glass.

"Nothing, we have no murder weapon," Sara announced, having no idea where else to look.

"It'll show up," Grissom said quite certainly as he marked another evidence bag and gave it to David to bring back to the lab for them. "It always does eventually."

He tried to sound reassuring but Sara was not pleased, "Well, I don't feel like waiting. I want to wrap this case up as quickly as possible."

Grissom nodded; he could understand that so said nothing as she began inspecting every inch of the floor once more. As she worked he finished tracing the blood spatter on the wall. It was a few minutes before he was done and he was about to move outside to inspect Crane's car when he heard Sara cry out behind him.

"I got it," she announced, very relieved since with a murder weapon they were now much closer to wrapping up this case and putting it behind them. Placing her flashlight on the floor, she laid on her stomach and carefully pulled the long shard of glass out from underneath the radiator. She held it up for her own inspection and Grissom's, who was quickly crossing the room.

Shining the light on the mirror piece it was impossible to not see the coat of blood on the end of the long shard. But while Sara looked triumphant Grissom appeared slightly confused. Looking from the radiator to the spot on the floor that was Crane's final resting place, he had one question.

"Okay, we found it, but how did it get all the way over here?" he asked. Sara looked up and also noticed the unlikely distance between Crane's body and the murder weapon.

"Crane might have thrown it or kicked it under, who knows what happened here or what was going on in his head?" Sara hypothesized.

"Only two people that we know of, and they aren't talking just yet," Grissom commented as he took a step back to better envision the events as they happened.

Sara thought it was a cold thing to say, it was Nick and Greg they were talking about after all, but then she remembered they were supposed to be detached from the case and the victims, something Grissom seemed to be doing a lot better than her.

"Well unless you think there was someone else here, then Crane must have been the one to knock it under the radiator. I mean, Greg and Nick were both handcuffed …"

"Right here," Grissom interrupted.

"What?"

Grissom didn't hesitate to meet her eye, "Where you found that shard, underneath the radiator, it's almost exactly where Nick was handcuffed."

Sara opened her mouth to reply and couldn't. She looked from the radiator to where Crane had been and knew that it made sense, more sense than suicide, but they still couldn't be sure. There were simply too many variables to be sure of anything. Right now the evidence they needed was eyewitness testimony and she knew where to find it. Shaking her head and bagging the evidence she stood up with an air of finality.

"I'm going to the hospital," she announced, already striding out of the room.

"Yeah," Grissom was just as sick of this crime scene. "I'm right behind you."

TBC

I know, not the most exciting chapter I've done, and the answers you're all looking for will be revealed next chapter (I know I said that a chapter ago, but this time I'm sure since that chapter is already half written). Please tune in next time for flashback angst and recovery h/c. I suppose it's mostly c, but there's some h in there too. As for my fabulous reviewers who would not stop pestering me:

Marakida – Well, Greg _can_ die actually. It probably won't happen here, but it does happen. Thanks for the review.

Lancey – Thank you soooooo much for reviewing and reading once again even though you have no idea what is happening. I feel sooooooo bad about not writing more on Fields of Battle, and trust me you have not been the only one asking, I can only promise it will not be left unfinished. Until then thanks for reading.

Shacky20 – I haven't written it yet, but I already can see the scene in my head on Nick reacting when he spends time with a recovering Greg. They will be well worth the wait trust me, and thanks for reviewing.

Storyspindler – Thanks so much for trying to inspire me, and I didn't mind at all that you corrected my medical stuff, I really have no idea what I'm talking about. As it is there is a little bit of medical stuff in this chap as well and I would have written you to ask but the end part of your email address didn't pop up. Go back and look at your review, you'll see what I mean. I think ff. net takes it out. Thanks for the offer though, I may write you for later chapters.

Airen – sorry the wait was so long, I love the Greg puppy eyes though.

Apion – not a chance of this not being finished, I promise on my muse and my reviews, it will get done.

Mellaithwen – Glad you're liking the angst and tension, it's fun to write, though I wonder sometimes if I go overboard with it. Yeah, not seeing season 5 yet has to suck, he was barely in the last episode, I was so mad, but the episode before that, where he got his certification was like all about him, so it's okay. Yeah, the body was in like a really big Tupperware storage bin thing, it was just a kid so the body was small.

Shacky20 – Did you review 3 times? My god, you must really like this story, thank you so much for all that effort. Yes, there will be a lot of Greg and Nick interactions down the road, I have a very touching and slightly humorous scene written on a piece of scrap paper that I can't wait to put in. Nick will also have SERIOUS angst, so that should be fun. Stick around.

Kenzimone – lolololol, that was pretty funny. You're right, Crane should have been happy with Nick and Greg at his fingertips, I mean, it's all I want in life, but Nick wouldn't allow that. Good guess, but it's nothing supernatural on Nick's part, though elastigirl was entertaining. You'll have to wait and see like everyone else.

And to the many, many people that exclaimed "Greg's Dead, OMG Nick killed Crane" (I've never had so many similar reviews in my life, it was cool). Greg is not dead, we'll clear that up though it's clear from the fic and yes, Nick did kill Crane and I would LOVE to hear how you all think he did it. I'm curious to know what people come up, hell, if someone has a better idea than mine is I might steal it. j/k, but thank you all for reading, reviewing and caring about updates. They should come more quickly now. Your writing servant, Goody.


	10. Hurt Him to Save Him

Been awhile huh? Yeah, excuses later, here's some story for you, not my favourite chapter but to make up for my absence it's my longest chapter ever. Enjoy.

Painful Journeys

By Goody

After stopping briefly at the lab to drop the evidence off to the replacement lab tech to be processed, Grissom and Sara headed straight for the hospital. It took almost an hour to drive there from the crime scene and Brass had promised to stop by as soon as possible.

"Catherine?"

She was sitting alone in the waiting room when Grissom and Sara came in, looking tired but still strong.

"Hey guys," she greeted them, standing up. They shared brief hugs then Grissom asked:

"Where's Warrick?"

"He's on the second floor sitting with Nick, he just came out of surgery."

"How is he?" Grissom continued.

"They got the bullet out fine, there's no permanent damage. Once it heals up he'll be back to normal. Pretty much all his other injuries are just cuts and deep bruises, not much they can do," Catherine explained.

"That's good," Sara said, relieved Nick would walk away from Nigel Crane once more physically unscathed. Mentally was a different story. "What about Greg?"

Catherine shrugged, clearly frustratingly angry that she had little to tell them, "They only took him up to surgery about half an hour ago. He flatlined in the chopper." She announced abruptly, letting it sink in just how dire the situation was.

"God. Cath I'm so sorry, it must have been horrible," Sara said emphatically. "Was he …?"

"Not for long, they brought him back pretty quickly. He lost a lot of blood though so they had to do a transfusion before they took him to the OR. They haven't told me anything else except that he was stable when he went in."

Sara rubbed Catherine's arm comfortingly, "He'll be all right, they have good people here."

"Yeah, I hope so. Did you guys find anything at the scene?"

"Murder weapon, blood, the usual. A few things we can't explain yet but Nick and Greg will probably be able to tell us what we can't piece together," Grissom supposed.

"The doctors said Nick should be awake and coherent in a few hours, we can find out then," Catherine pointed out.

"We'll need their statements no matter what, with Crane dead it doesn't really matter when they give them," Grissom said, not planning on pelting Nick with questions about the most traumatic event of his life as soon as he woke up.

Catherine looked like she was about to say something but was interrupted by the loudspeaker system.

"Doctor Matheson, OR 2, code blue. Doctor Matheson, OR 2, code blue."

The look of fear on Catherine's face told it all.

"Is that where Greg is?" Sara asked. Catherine nodded, biting her lip and sitting down, knowing they would tell them nothing even if they were to run to the Operating Room doors. They could only wait and it sucked.

"We'll just have to hope for the best," Grissom commented, then shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm going to go check on Warrick, let him know we're here."

Sara and Catherine nodded and watched him leave silently then they settled into their seats. It would be a long night of waiting for all of them.

* * *

A floor below them Nick and Warrick sat in similar silence. As the hours passed Warrick sat fidgeting in the bedside chair, trying hard to find some reason for this violent attack on his friends, and justification for the repercussions that were to come. Grissom visited briefly and they talked, but then he left again to sit with the girls upstairs. Warrick stayed where he was, he had promised Nick and wouldn't let him wake up alone after the traumatic events of the past day. And through it all, Nick slept. It was a sleep of recovery, in body at least, for in his mind he dreamed unsettling nightmares. Unlike Greg, his dreams were not fabrications of the truth distorted by his imagination or fear, but detailed recollections of what had actually happened. Of the terror that they had lived through.

In Nick's mind he saw Nigel Crane, so twisted with delusions that he would switch from violent to overjoyed at the drop of a dime. He saw Crane's horrible black car, the rundown house of his childhood, so full of pain even before they had gotten there. Next were flashes of the torture they had endured, shattered mirrors, handcuffs, Crane's knife, his gun and then finally, in stark detail and high quality images, as if it were the main attraction, Nick saw Crane die. He saw himself kill him and then he awoke with a start.

* * *

"Crane? Where?"

It actually took Warrick a moment to react. He had been sitting so long in silence waiting for some kind of sign of life from Nick, that when the Texan awoke suddenly, gasping and wide eyed, he wasn't sure what was happening. It didn't take him long to figure it out and then he moved, buzzing a nurse and standing close to the bed.

"Nick, it's all right, it's all right, you're safe," Warrick assured him, seeing the wild look in his eyes diminish as he took in where he was. "Crane's dead, you're in the hospital." Nick locked eyes with Warrick and nodded, relaxing as his breathing evened out. He laid his head back down, closing his eyes as he remembered everything that had happened.

"Warrick. Right, I remember." A few more deep breaths. "How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice dry.

"A couple of hours. Here," Warrick said, as he handed him a glass of water. Nick realized he was very thirsty and drank greedily.

"Thanks," He handed the glass back and then asked immediately, "How's Greg? Can I see him?"

"He's still in surgery last I heard, he was stable when they took him in. We won't know anything for sure until he's out," Warrick replied.

Nick closed his eyes, "Okay, that's good I guess." A pause.

"Hey, I know this isn't gonna count for much but I'm sorry for what happened to you guys. We're all gonna be here for you if you need anything, no matter how big or small. Don't hesitate to ask," Warrick said, his voice resonating with the epitome of support.

Nick smiled briefly, "Thanks man, I'll be all right, I've dealt with Crane before, I survived. I'm just worried about Greg, he never should have been there," he replied, his voice becoming a dark whisper at the end, overflowing with guilt.

Warrick laid a hand on his good shoulder, "None of this was your fault, Nick, none of it. It was all Crane."

"Yeah, I'll keep telling myself that, maybe I can believe it," he said, then tried to push himself into a sitting position and jarred his injured shoulder. "Oh god," he exclaimed, almost having forgotten he was hurt.

"Yeah, that's gonna be tender for awhile, I don't think you should move until a doctor sees you anyway," Warrick said wisely, not wanting Nick to pull out an IV or rip his stitches.

"That's excellent advice Mr. Brown."

Nick jumped at the voice, his nerves shaky, but made himself calm down when he saw a doctor in the doorway, chart and pen in hand. Warrick had talked to him several times over the last few hours and liked him, he seemed to care a lot about his patients.

"I'm Dr. Connell, the attending. How are you feeling Mr. Stokes?" he asked, quickly checking Nick's pupils and writing on his chart.

"Call me Nick. I'm all right considering." Nick replied, his eyes haunted briefly with memories.

"That's wonderful. Now, your arm should heal up nicely, we found nothing too serious once we got the bullet out. It'll take a few weeks to heal and some physio but after that you should have full mobility again. Other than that you're basically fine except for a mild concussion and the lacerations on your wrists, they were rather deep. The police told me you were attacked, do you want to talk about it?" the doctor was only doing his job, often patients had the most detailed memories of their attacks and were most willing to talk upon waking, but Nick was not one of these patients.

"No," he replied flatly, almost angry just by the memories of it. "My attacker's dead, there's not much to talk about."

Dr. Connell took this in stride, not pushing, "That's fine." He moved to the end of the bed and lifted the sheet off Nick's feet. "Can you wiggle your toes for me?"

"Doc, I was shot in the arm, not the spine," Nick complained.

"Humor me."

Nick did as asked and wiggled all his toes, then certain ones and repeated the process for his fingers on his injured arm. Assured there was no nerve damage the doctor seemed pleased and ready to leave.

"Wait, a friend of mine's here too, when can I see him?" Nick asked as Dr. Connell was leaving.

The doctor looked at Warrick briefly, already knowing who Nick was talking about, "Mr. Sanders is still in surgery, if things go well you should be fit enough to see him by the time he's taking visitors."

"And if things don't go well?" Nick asked, very scared by how uncertain the doctor seemed about Greg's fate.

"I don't have all the facts on Mr. Sanders but from what I hear his injuries are severe, we're doing our best." And then he was gone.

Nick laid back down, not comforted in the least and once again very tired. Warrick sat down beside him, trying not to be intrusive, only supportive.

"He'll be all right Nick, he's a fighter, he'll pull through," he said, placing a comforting hand on Nick's unbandaged shoulder.

Nick shook his head, eyes clenched tight in anger, "He went through so much Warrick. Crane was sadistic, unreasonable. I couldn't blame him for giving up now but somehow I think I'd hate him if he did."

"Hey, you both went through hell, but if you're going through hell, keep going. You kept going, you're out of it now, things'll turn out in the end," Warrick promised, knowing all of them, Grissom, Sara, Catherine and himself would fight and push as much as it took to make sure things were all right for both Nick and Greg.

"Yeah, maybe." Clearly Nick was in pain. Not physically, but mental torture could be just as bad, but it was clear from the haunted, hard-set look in his eyes that he was not handling the situation with as much ease as he led his friend to believe.

Warrick tapped his fingers on the bedside table, fighting his internal monologue, but eventually decided to ask the question that had been burning inside him for hours.

"Nick, listen, I don't know what you remember and I didn't tell anyone yet, but you told me on the ambulance that _you_ killed Crane, it wasn't a suicide. Do you remember that?" Warrick asked, his way of gently asking Nick to elaborate, to explain or deny what he had said earlier.

Nick nodded, eyes still closed, appearing exhausted, "Yeah, I remember." A long pause. "Is Brass here?"

The question came from nowhere and Warrick was flustered for a moment, "Uh, no, not yet. He said he'd probably be another hour or so."

"How about you sit in when he gets here and I make my statement? I'm really not up to telling it twice," Nick explained, clearly sorry he was holding back, but also unwilling to talk about it more than he had to.

Warrick understood, "Yeah, that's fine, no problem. You get some rest, I'm going to go see the others, tell them how you're doing. Maybe I can get an update on Greg."

"Okay, wake me if you find out anything."

"No problem." Warrick stood to leave and heard Nick sigh heavily. He wondered if the injured man would indeed sleep or lay alone in silence worrying and arguing with his conscience. Though he hoped for the former, he somehow knew it would bethe latter.

* * *

"Hey guys, any news on Greg?" Warrick asked as soon as he entered the waiting room the other CSIs were occupying.

"No, they haven't told us anything else, but a lot of doctors have been going in and out," Sara replied then looked away, back into the dark of her swirling, cooling coffee.

"What about Nicky?" Catherine asked, knowing Warrick was probably there for a reason.

"Yeah, he woke up. Doctor checked him out again, said he'll be all right. He's sleeping now, he's pretty exhausted. I told him I'd check on Greg for him," Warrick explained.

"How was he when he was awake?" Grissom asked.

Warrick thought about it a second and replied, "He was all right. Coherent, remembered everything. Mostly worried about Greg and working hard to deny that any of this has affected him but you can see it, he's jumpy, nervous. He's not opening up yet but he said he's ready to make his statement whenever Brass gets here, get it out of the way."

"That's soon," Grissom noted. "Maybe he can answer a few of our questions about what we found."

"What exactly did you find?"

"Anomalies. Crane may not have killed himself," Sara replied but was clearly still sceptical of the idea.

"But, Nick and Greg were both tied up weren't they?" Warrick continued questioning.

"Thus the anomalies," Grissom said, as matter of factly and even as always. "The evidence doesn't lie and it's telling us Crane didn't kill himself."

Warrick ran a hand over his face, even more exhausted, "Oh man, this day just keeps getting better and better."

"Great, I need to hear some good news," Brass announced, startling the CSIs. He had only just arrived and all he had heard were Warrick's last few words.

"Hey Jim," Grissom greeted him.

"Thanks for coming," Catherine said as he stood by her, waiting.

"No problem, so someone fill me in. How are they?" he asked, able to keep his voice relatively calm. He didn't see any tears in anyone's eyes so he guessed the news wouldn't be life shattering but the room was thick with tension, meaning the news wouldn't be uplifting either.

"Greg's been in surgery since he got here, all we know is he was stable when he went in. Nick's out already, they said he'll be fine, they got the bullet out of his arm. He's just resting now," Catherine explained.

"That's great. What about the scene? Did you process it all?"

Grissom nodded and filled Brass in on what they had found, what could be explained and what couldn't. Brass listened intently but had no explanation for their strange findings and somehow they all knew they wouldn't get answers until Nick or Greg was able to give them.

"Nick actually wanted to see you when you got here, he seemed pretty eager to make his statement," Warrick added.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," Brass said. Trauma victims usually wanted to talk immediately or never at all. It made sense Nick wanted to talk soon, especially since he knew it would have to be done eventually. Best to get it over with quickly. "So we have no idea how long until Sanders is out?"

Everyone shook their heads dismally; there was seemingly not an ion of positive energy in the entire room. Even the air felt heavy, the fluorescent light somehow dark. It wasn't pleasant. The concern and worry of the CSIs was palpable and Brass was eager to leave and try to distance himself in an attempt to avoid the plunge into brooding they all seemed to have taken.

"I'm going back down with Nick if you want to come," Warrick offered as he started for the door. Brass nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be right there. I gotta get some stuff if he's going to make his statement now."

He and Warrick began down the hallway in silence. Once they were a decent distance from the waiting room Warrick spoke.

"Look, I didn't want to bring it up again in there but … Greg flatlined twice on the chopper ride over, to me that means things are probably bad."

"Jesus," Brass swore on instinct. He had hoped the situation was less critical than that. The crazy lab rat had looked bad back at the crime scene but he had hoped it was all superficial. But hope didn't always pan out.

"Yeah, but the doctors are working hard it seems. I can't see how it could be much longer, it's been hours," Warrick pointed out as they got in the elevator.

"Well, as long as he's in there, he's alive. As they say, 'no news is good news,'" Brass said.

"We could sure use some good news right about now," Warrick replied.

Brass had nothing to offer.

* * *

Nick was awake when they got there, confirming Warrick's suspicion that he wouldn't sleep.

"Hey Jim," he said in greeting upon seeing Brass.

"Hey Nick, glad you're going to be all right, you gave us a scare," Brass replied clearly somewhat uncomfortable and not accustomed to being a pillar of support. He was accustomed to dishing out attitude and aggression to suspects, his was a rough exterior which he found hard to break.

"Yeah, didn't mean to," Nick said, then turned to Warrick. Before he even said anything Warrick shook his head.

"Sorry man, no news on Greg yet."

Nick sighed deeply and laid his head back, frustrated, "Damn."

"Look Warrick said you wanted to make your statement but there's really no rush, I just came to see how you were, you should get some rest. I pulled some strings, got you the day off work," Brass joked lightly, actually bringing a small semblance of laughter from Nick's lips.

"No, I'm not tired, I just want to get it off my chest, avoid all the questions that are going to pop up later," Nick replied, sitting up and obviously getting ready for the question period.

And oh the questions Brass had, but he had to do this right and start from the beginning. As he was setting up the tape recorder, not bothering to take hand written notes, Nick was curious.

"Hey, if I cover everything with a good amount of detail is there any way Greg won't have to do this?" Nick asked, trying to sound casual but knowing his real reasons for making a fast statement were coming out.

Brass thought about it a moment, "Well, we're going to have to talk to him no matter what, but if you give us enough we can just get him to verify your story. It'll be brief."

Nick nodded, accepting that, knowing it was the best answer he was going to get. Brass recorded the date, time, and interview subject and laid down the recorder.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning."

And so Nick did. He started from that morning and continued straight through, making little eye contact, concealing the emotion in his voice, barrelling through the tough memories quickly, not dwelling on the pain or fear, just the facts – just what they needed to know, no frills, just the facts.

"We were leaving Greg's, on the way to a football game …"

"He was waiting in the parking lot for us…"

"I came around and Greg was on the ground …"

"… had a gun …"

"… something different about him …"

"Wanted to take a trip …"

"He made me drive out into the desert …"

"Greg eventually woke up in the trunk and started yelling …"

"He hit Greg, put him back in the trunk. I tackled him but …"

"… left it behind for Grissom …"

"We took a side road and got to this little town, Crane said he grew up there …"

"He handcuffed me to the radiator and went back for Greg …"

"…wanted me to understand …"

"Crane started ranting …"

"He hit him over and over…"

"… I couldn't do anything …"

"He went to the closet and came back with a baseball bat … kept hitting him and yelling about his childhood …"

"… threw him through the mirror, glass was everywhere …"

"I had to do something to stop him …"

"… wanted me to understand …"

"Greg's phone went off …"

"He shot me …"

"Greg got up somehow and hit him …"

"…wanted me to understand …"

"He came back with the rope …"

"Tied Greg up …"

"I tried to stop him."

"Told him he would be like his father …"

"He said 'death always has a way of changing things'…"

"Hey, maybe we should take a break," Warrick suggested suddenly, surprising both Nick and Brass. Nick's monologue had been going for some time, Brass asked few questions, and they had both been entirely focussed on the telling and listening of it. But Warrick saw how exhausted Nick was and what a toll this was having on him. His shoulders were slowly slumping even more and his eyes were becoming more distant, haunted.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Brass agreed standing up, emotionally drained from just listening, it was hard to imagine how Nick could even bear to tell it, let alone have just lived the horrible tale.

But Nick shook his head, determined to finish now that he'd started, "No, there's not much left, just … let me finish."

Brass sighed and nodded, sitting back down, "Okay, we'll keep going."

Warrick took a deep breath, unsure how much more of the horror story he could take, but he would stay. He had promised Nick and he was forced to admit, sheer curiosity kept him from protesting the continuance; he needed to know what had happened to his friends, how Crane had been killed.

Nick focussed on the spot on the wall he had been watching and continued as if they hadn't stopped, "Crane turned back to Greg …"

Crane wanted me to see how much better he was than Greg.

_"Well Gregory, I think it's about time Nick sees the real you, don't you?" Crane sing-songed as he stepped in front of the lab tech, making sure to hold the knife in Greg's direct line of vision._

_Greg saw the knife and knew something was going to happen but he was having trouble concentrating on anything besides the pain radiating down his entire left side. His dislocated shoulder was holding up half his weight from the rope he was hanging from and the pulling of the torn tendons and muscles was enough to make him want to scream until he blacked out. But he stayed conscious, determined to stay awake and not leave Nick alone with this madman, but he was also scared to sleep. Sleep meant he would lose awareness of what was happening to him and when he woke up … well, he knew chances were he wouldn't wake up._

_For this reason he found the will to lift his head and watch as Crane stepped towards him and quickly cut away what was left of his tattered t-shirt._

_"Nigel, stop. What are you doing?" Nick demanded from across the room, but Crane did not answer. He just smiled a little and continued with his task. When the shirt was gone Crane came around to Greg's back and his eyes widened with a mix of wonder and almost approval._

Crane liked Greg's scars, wanted to know what caused them.

_"My my Gregory, these are lovely. How did you get them?" _

_Greg was confused for a moment, unsure what Crane meant, but then felt the cold knife run slowly down his back, over the scarred flesh on his upper back and neck. His burns, Crane admired his burns._

_Though he was having some trouble breathing Greg choked out an answer, "An explosion … in the lab."_

_"Sabotage?" Crane asked._

_Greg shook his head, "Accident." He affirmed._

_"Even better. I think I'll just leave these as they are, they're almost perfect," their kidnapper commented as he pulled the knife away and walked slowly to stand in front of Greg once more, between him and Nick. _

_As this went on Nick stood, helpless, as helpless as he had been through this entire ordeal and he felt it to his core. He watched, hoping things would not escalate but knowing they would. _

_He was right._

_Crane took a moment to study his knife and his victim and then casually took a lighter out of his pocket, flicking it on and placing it underneath the metal weapon, heating it up._

He wanted to show me that he was a more deserving friend than Greg.

_As the knife grew hotter, Crane explained himself, freakishly calm and reasonable, "Time for business. Now Nick, now you're going to finally see what I mean. Once and for all you'll see this worthless annoyance for what he really is; weak, unworthy, a leech that has latched on to your life to live in replace of his own miserable existence."_

Then Greg kind of made him mad.

_"Not like anyone else in this room, huh?" Greg remarked bitingly, instinct making him fight back. He saw undiluted anger flash in Crane's eyes and regretted talking despite how good the comment felt._

_"You will not turn this inquisition back on me, it's you who is lacking here," Crane hissed, taking a step closer to Greg but also continuing to run the knife over the flame._

I tried to get him off Greg's case.

_"He's right Nigel, you admitted it yourself. You 'get confused about what's yours and what's mine'. Even if Greg were guilty of that so were you," Nick pointed out, wanting Crane to turn, to be mad at him, but the killer would not be swayed. His eyes never strayed from Greg, even as he replied._

_"That's different. I acted out of admiration and respect, I appreciate so much everything that you do Nick, everything that you are. His actions are motivated by jealousy and envy, it is an insincere form of flattery." Again, Crane sounded calm, scaring Nick. It seemed less and less likely he would be deterred from his actions, whatever they were._

Crane couldn't be reasoned with, he was determined.

_Nick tried to form a response but Crane kept talking. His words came out slowly and thoughtfully, with only Greg able to see the insanity in his eyes, "I did some research while I was locked up, you know, learned some more about what you do. One thing I found particularly interesting was that if a wound is inflicted with a metal weapon that's hot enough, it'll cauterize itself. I found that so interesting, I've wanted to try it ever since."_

He started to cut Greg.

_Without warning Crane tore the knife blade across Greg's abdomen, cutting a long gash from his ribcage to his naval. Greg cried out in surprise and tried to pull away but there was no where to go. He choked on air for a moment and tried to breathe but mostly he concentrated on holding back any tears of pain; he would not cry for this madman, not anymore._

_Nick tried to pull forward; it was futile but there was nothing else he could do. _

_"Nigel!" he yelled. Crane stepped out of the way, frowning. Nick saw the cut was long, but not deep, with a thin line of blood dripping down._

_"Hmm, guess it wasn't hot enough," Crane mumbled as he started heating up the knife again._

I couldn't stop him. Everything was so clear to him. The insanity all must have made sense in his head.

_"What does this prove?" Nick demanded, his anger briefly boiling over his fear._

_"That I'm stronger, I'm the more deserving. You must _really_ see it Nick, I don't know how you haven't already," Crane replied, his voice was still calm, reasonable in its twisted logic._

I couldn't do anything, couldn't stop him. I almost gave up.

_Nick didn't know what else to do, to say. He had tried everything. He closed his eyes, exhausted, so impossibly tired he could barely stand and when he heard another sickening slice, followed by Greg's cry of pain, he could no longer find it in him to even react. Instead he actually collapsed; his soul feeling like it was crumbling as hope finally waned. He sat helplessly on the floor and put his head in his hands. He couldn't watch anymore, it would drive him insane, and he knew he couldn't stop Crane. He was unreasonable, illogical; to him all of this made perfect sense. There was nothing he could say to make Crane understand that this was wrong. _

_Nothing._

_But it was Crane who wanted _him_ to understand, wasn't it?_

_"I think I'll just assume it works, this is taking too long. Besides, I'd hate to see the blood stop flowing, wouldn't you Nick?" he heard Crane comment. He made no move to reply._

Crane just kept hurting him.

_"Stop, please," Greg pleaded, panting through gritted teeth, biting down so hard on his own jaw he could barely speak. Crane seemed urged on by the request and sliced him quickly again, right beneath the ribcage, the deepest cut yet. _

_"Ah, god!" Greg yelled, shaking with pain and exhaustion. "Jesus, stop. You don't have to do this, please, there's no point, he's not going to understand whatever the hell you're trying to teach him. Ah! …God stop, don't do this …"_

I could only think of one thing to do.

_"Oh my God, can you ever shut the hell up for two minutes!" The outburst was sudden and both Greg and Crane turned wide eyes to stare at the speaker._

I had to hurt him too.

_When Nick saw he had their full attention he continued, standing, tense with anger, "All you ever do is whine and run your mouth 24/7, you never shut up for a god damn minute, I can't even hear myself think for Christ's sake! God, you're just always following me and rambling on and on about your crappy music and your stupid pop stars like you think I care or something. And if not that you're always running around so proud of your damn lab results that a monkey could process, and then there's your whole pathetic little quest as a CSI wannabe which got old and annoying really fast. Why do you even bother if all you're going to do is screw up anyway? So why don't you just do everyone a favour and shut it for once!" he sounded honestly fed up, annoyed, and best of all to Crane, mad._

_Greg's jaw hung open, sucking in a breath as his heart felt like it was sucked into a vacuum. The emotional pain of the words quickly overtook the physical torture he had suffered and for the first time since this began, he felt alone. He had endured it all, every physical blow, because Nick had been behind him, supporting him. He had taken the pain because he believed it had protected Nick, because he was standing by his friend like Nick was for him. Every cut and bruise and blow he had taken without tears, strong in the soul. But now Nick wielded his own knife and it cut deeper than Crane's; his barriers fell and his eyes watered._

_"Nick … what?" he couldn't even form a complete sentence._

I … I hurt him a lot.

_But Nick showed no sympathy, only further disgust and incredulousness, "Come on, you're a freakshow, Nigel here has made some good points, really got me thinking. You really aren't worthy of my friendship at all, especially not now, if ever. I mean look at you, bleeding everywhere, defenceless and … are those tears in your eyes? Now come on, I can't be seen with someone like you," Nick scoffed at the idea and a look passed between him and Crane._

I gave Crane what he wanted.

_Nigel seemed to study his captive for a long time, measuring the emotion in his eyes, the sincerity of his expression and tone in his voice. It all seemed right. He almost didn't dare to hope, but it seemed true; he had gotten through to Nick. Looking behind him, he indeed saw tears on Gregory's cheeks, which he tried to hide by lowering his head. _

_Greg closed his eyes as he looked down, unable to see anymore. He didn't want to process what Nick had said and in a desperate attempt to block out the emotional pain he actually pulled on his own injured shoulder, relishing in the distraction of physical agony._

I made him think I understood.

_"Nick, you understand, at last. I told you," Crane said, smiling. "I told you he was unworthy, he was a shell of the friend I could be to you."_

_"You did, you tried so hard to warn me, you're a good friend Nigel. Just wish I had listened sooner. I see now, he's been a horrible waste of my time," Nick continued, laughing derogatorily as he saw Greg shudder at his words. "I needed a reality check as much as he does."_

_"I did all I could Nick," Crane said with fake modesty, yearning for more praise from his new friend._

I made him think I was his friend.

_"You did. You tried so hard to show me he wasn't worth my time and made me see how much better I deserve. You did so much and … God, I made you go through all this hell. I put you through so much and … you were right all along," Nick's angry, arrogant attitude faded as he went, to be slowly replaced by honest regret and sadness. "I'm so sorry Nigel about everything I made you go through. God, you went to prison for me, you killed for me, and all I did in return was hurt you, betray you. I'm so sorry. Jesus, how could you forgive me? How? I'm just, so sorry. I'm so sorry Nigel. I'm sorry, I'm sorry …"_

_Crane watched as Nick seemed to collapse in on himself, overcome with guilt for his actions as he slid down the wall and brought his knees to his chest as he sat down, rocking slightly._

_Greg worked hard not to listen, he heard words but focussed on not understanding them when put together. The physical pain was strong and easy to focus on because there was so much and he decided he would rather feel that than listen to Nick and Crane degrade him even more and crush what was left of his will._

_As he watched Nick crumble with guilt, Nigel moved closer to him, exuding an air of immediate forgiveness while inside he was filled with extreme satisfaction. Nick's head was down as he rocked and Nigel knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder._

I got him to trust me.

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry …" Nick mumbled quietly, eyes closed as he leaned over himself._

_"Nick, it's all right, I understand it can take awhile to see what later seems so clear. It's okay, we're both okay, we have each other now," Crane said comfortingly._

And then I betrayed him.

_But still Nick didn't look up. He kept mumbling, even quieter now and Crane leaned forward to hear him better. He never saw Nick move, he never saw the brief glint of sun off the glass in his hand, he never heard the wind whistle as it travelled, or the flesh tear as the shard imbedded deep in his jugular. He didn't feel the blood rushing out of his body and down his neck. He didn't even feel the pain of the stab. He felt only betrayal as he saw the truth in his friend's eyes._

I guess you could say I stabbed him in the back, but technically it was the neck.

_"I'm sorry," Nick repeated one last time, softly and sincere. _

_Crane did not forgive him. He stumbled back, hand flying to his throat but his gaze never left Nick's. He'd been betrayed, fooled. He was dying and it would be alone at the hand of someone he considered a friend, his only friend. In his last few moments as he quickly bled out, he did not think of redemption or heaven or hell. His thoughts dwelled on what most who die suddenly consider most: revenge. _

He looked so betrayed. I think he wanted to hurt me back at that point.

_Nick threw the bloody shard away, noting that it slid under the radiator, then watched Crane back away and manage to stand, wobbly with surprise. Their eyes stayed locked and he saw the shock in Crane's expression and the hurt of betrayal. But that look faded as quickly as the blood gushing from his open neck. His eyes furrowed and there was anger, malice that he felt to his core at such a betrayal and it was clear that with his last actions Crane would make Nick pay. _

_And he immediately thought of the greatest way to hurt the Texan._

And he did.

_He swung around quickly and with all his strength and body weight he fell into the body hanging behind him, pushing his knife as deeply as it would go into Greg's unprotected abdomen. _

There was nothing I could do.

_"No, don't!" Nick cried out too late. The words came more from denial than any real hope of stopping Crane as the damage had already been done._

Crane won.

_Greg had not seen the attack coming. He had been so focussed on his own internal monologue he hadn't even seen Nick stab Crane first. The pain hit immediately though and his head shot up, but soon the agony was so over powering he felt nothing at all, just a strange numbing through his body. He tried to breathe and found his lungs would not comply. Still not quite sure what had happened, he looked down just as Crane fell back and saw the entire length of the knife slide slowly out of his torso, leaving a gaping wound behind. He focussed for long seconds on the blood that ran down his stomach, oblivious to all else around him. There was so much, he wondered what was left inside. The blood gushed and he knew he was dying, the numbness was a sign, and he wondered where the flash of his life was, the bright light in the tunnel or maybe even that last burst of superhuman strength that some experience. He pulled on the ropes holding him but they didn't budge; no superhuman strength. As his mind began to wander his body relaxed and he was able to take a long, comforting breath of air into his starved lungs. Almost immediately afterwards his eyes started to droop and just before blissful unconsciousness overtook him, he looked up, and though he saw Nigel Crane's lifeless body and Nick desperately trying to get to him somehow, he heard nothing and could not piece together what it all meant. Somehow he was content not to know what had just happened, he embraced the comfort of knowing that at least it was all over. Then he slipped quietly into the darkness and dreamt about pain._

I couldn't react for a minute, I think I was in shock.

_Nick sat numbly at first. It had all happened so fast he could barely process it. It had been hard to take a life, but he knew not nearly so hard as to watch Crane slowly torture Greg to death. But it had gone so wrong, Crane had been so furious about his betrayal that he had taken revenge. Nick's stunned gaze slowly turned to the far wall when he heard a thump and saw Nigel Crane had fallen in what would be his final resting place. Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched his throat and his wide eyes locked with Nick's, still full of anger they sent a clear message to the CSI: now we're even. Crane smiled in his final triumph, then his head tilted back and the blood stopped running through his fingers._

_Nick began to hyperventilate as what had just happened sunk in. His breath came in with quick, short gasps and he whirled to look at Greg. The younger man was still conscious, barely, his blurry gaze fixed in shock on the hole in his side._

Greg was … barely awake. Hurt, bad.

_"Greg, oh my God, Greg can you hear me? Oh shit, oh hell, this can't be happening, Greg! Greg talk to me, look at me! Just stay with me buddy," Nick demanded, pulling and tearing at the cuffs, fiercer than ever. Crane was dead, he didn't care now that he'd killed him, but that left him with no way to gain his freedom. Nick watched as Greg managed to lift his head, having yet to make a sound, and stared at the body of Nigel Crane._

I don't think he could hear me.

_"Greg, no, look at me. Over here Greggo, talk to me, please! How bad is it?" Stupid question, he knew. There was blood, and no doctors, and no one coming which equalled no chance. But Nick had to hope, "Just hold on G, we'll get out of here, somehow, I promise."_

_Greg's gaze flicked to Nick, and the Texan had hope that he would talk to him, but there was no lucidness in Greg's eyes. He was barely awake, practically incoherent. _

_"Greg, just stay awake, stay here with me, you'll be fine, I swear buddy. Goddammit!" Nick pulled at the cuffs, they didn't budge. "Just keep looking at me, stay awake. Greg? No! Greg, don't! Don't close your eyes! Greg!"_

He passed out.

_It was too late, Greg was unconscious, head resting on his good shoulder as he hung, helpless, bleeding._

_"Greg? Greg wake up!" Nick yelled, but got no response. He began gasping harder, panic taking hold as grief and guilt attacked his mind. "Greg … I … I'm …"_

_He gasped and felt the first tears slide down his cheeks as he realized he had not told Greg he was sorry. Had not apologized for his actions that had led Crane to stab him, or for the hurtful words he had used earlier. He had not asked for redemption for anything, and now, for it seemed there was no hope, he would never find Greg's forgiveness. _

I … I couldn't do anything. I couldn't explain to him … I couldn't … take it back, nothing. I couldn't help him. All I did was hurt him.

_"I'm sorry, Greg. I'm so sorry," Nick said from his heart. His breathing did not calm in any way as he panicked and grieved more with every second. Greg would die and it was his fault. He had killed a man, to save his friend, and now he was going to die anyway. It was a cruel twist of events and Nick didn't think he could handle it. Sitting on the floor, resigned, tears fell as he prayed, asked for forgiveness and took comfort only in the rise and fall of Greg's chest. He couldn't tell when, but eventually the emotional and physical toll overtook him, and he unknowingly fell into unconsciousness. When he blacked out he knew Greg was still alive, but he was no closer to forgiveness …_

TBC

Whew! Finally got that flashback done, wasn't my favourite chapter but at least it's finally done. There will probably only be one or two more chapters, depending how much guilt, redemption and recovery I can fit in one chapter. If not enough, then a second will follow. I know, it's been forever since I updated. To be honest, I've been on break and the muse just hasn't been visiting (it doesn't help that I missed Big Middle last week! Ah! I hear Greg was in it Big time. Oh, bad pun Diana, very bad pun.)

Anyway, that's the only reason I got, but lucky for me I have a LOT more amazing reviewers than I have reasons for slow updates. And here are the thanks that these great people deserve.

WingLiger496 and GenoSaw623 – First off, that name is a mouthful, but nice and original. Second of all, homework's important, you should do it, and third, thank you for the review. Hope you liked the explanation.

Shacky20 – the angst and guilt should be good, I already have a few scenes scribbled out on scrap paper that should be adorable and angst filled. As for the bribery, I think I'll take one of those cookies, thank you very much.

Ice Queen1 – Hey, there's a movie coming out called that. Cool. Anyway, so happy you like my characterizations, all reviews are cherished but even more so by those who do not review lightly, so thank you. I'm glad you found mine too, and I would email you but unfortunately the last part of email addresses don't show up in reviews (this has happened with other reviewers) so I hope you check for updates on your own and get a chance to read this.

Loozy – not a totally off the wall idea, I can see it working if I took the story in that direction. Good guess anyway, thank you for reading.

Wendy – lol, I kind of like your explanation more than mine.

Curious Forgotten Lore – I was considering doing something like that to be honest, make Nigel so depressed from Nick's words that he killed himself, but in the end I went for the betrayal and the angst of Nick stabbing him, and then Crane stabbing Greg. Mostly because I just love angst.

Honey dipped rose – lol, you really must be tired. I thought the type in the first review was a bit odd, but then in your second one when you apologized for the typos you made a few more. I hope you did it on purpose because it made me smile. Hope you get some rest. And sorry, I don't know where you could get the episodes unless you downloaded them.

Emmithar – Wow, pretty much spot on with the hypothesis on Crane's death. I applaud you. I also like the dream sequence, I was worried it was too long, but I'm glad the confusion was enjoyable.

Wolfwood11 – Trust me, you never have to apologize to an author for long reviews. Never! Longer the better, so no worries. Thank you for all the kind words on my characterization, I try very hard, but I have also written animated characters so I actually know what you mean on that one. Batman is so much easier to write than Greg. J Wow, I never even thought of making the shard the one that Greg pulled out of his side, that'd be strangely ironic and twisted, and I would have done it but I think if Greg had a piece in him that big it would have done a lot of damage that I haven't accounted for, so I didn't. But I appreciate that you have obviously been reading all the little details, thanks so much.

Em – uh, no. But you made me laugh very hard, so thank you.

Mellaithwen – Great, you were the only one to put your idea into actual story format, so many thanks for the extra work and you were pretty close, you fit the dream dialogue in which was a main aspect of it. Thanks so much for that extra effort and not thinking my chapter was boring.

Story-spindler – Yes, I got some medical stuff right. It probably won't happen again, but thank you for letting me know.

Rossy07 – Lots of Nick angst, but pretty much all mental and guilt trips except for the occasional pull on the bullet wound shoulder.

Kenzimone – lol, look at you being all creative and sticking my name into the dialogue of my own story, I love it! Sorry Nick never actually slapped him, but I think his words had a strong enough effect, he was pretty harsh on our Greggo, and never apologized.

And thanks to Blood-Spattered, Aurora, higherbeingfriendsfan, deathchamberX17, Alex, LXG-Gurl121, Sillie, Stacey, Legolasgirl666, Fwe, Marakida, Xombe, Lady-Of-The-Rings (I'm not big on sequels, sorry), snowbunny3, felineferal, and St. Nick for your awesome reviews, I appreciated them muchly.

Don't know when the next update will be, but I'll do my best to make it quick. Hope the waiting hasn't killed off anyone's interest, so sorry it took so long. Thanks for reading, Goody.


	11. What needs to heal, the body or mind?

Okay, my dreams have been answered! Hopefully. The upcoming episode 4x4 is going to be the best ever if this is true! Apparently Greg and Sara's crime scene in the episode is some kind of biohazard and you actually get to see Greg take a decontamination shower! Shower! Sans close, the full monty Greg style! Anyone else crazy excited?

Whoo, got that out of my system, so here's another long one to make up for the slowness of the updates, enjoy. Oh, and as for medical facts, I do my best, but I'm no doctor so just play along, please.

Painful Journeys

By Goody

The room was silent as Nick finished the torturous story.

Knowing more than he wanted to, Brass sighed and swore softly, "Jesus," then added, louder, "that's … that's great Nick, you did great. I gotta get back to the station, write up my report, you feel better, okay." He excused himself with words that felt hollow after the horrific tale he had just heard and left the two friends alone.

Warrick sat shocked, holding back rage, grief and pity as he pictured over and over what his friends had gone through, so much pain and adversity and yet somehow they hadn't lost their sanity.

"My god," Warrick whispered, softly enough that not even Nick heard as he ran a hand down his face. Then Nick broke the silence, his voice beginning to crack with the emotion the entire ordeal had left in him.

"So, that's it, the twisted tale of Nigel Crane. Think it's movie of the week material?" Nick asked, trying desperately to hide his emotions with humor and failing. Warrick couldn't speak for a moment and Nick continued, rambling, his walls slowly breaking, "I mean, I could sell the rights no problem. Get some over the top method actor to be Crane, all wiry and eccentric … I think I'd want the names changed, maybe the setting could be the woods instead … yeah … give it some snappy title like "Be Careful Who's Watching". Greg would play himself … I think … I think he'd do a good job..."

Warrick could hear Nick's resolve dissolving the longer he rambled and he finally got up and stood by Nick's bed, touching his shoulder to make him look at him.

"Nick, stop," he demanded firmly but not unkind. Nick looked at him, through him, with watery eyes as Warrick lowered himself to his eye level. "It's over okay, just let it go."

The horrific story had taken an emotional toll on Nick. The CSI had met no one's gaze during his testimony, he just kept staring at the far wall, contemplating his guilt and regret. Now he took a shaky breath and shook his head, tears running down his cheeks as he slammed his eyes closed. In a harsh whisper, filled with overflowing emotion, he announced his fear, "He can't die Warrick, he can't. It's not right and it's my fault … I hurt him so bad."

Warrick didn't hesitate to move to sit on the bed next to Nick and wrap an arm around his shoulders as the tears continued, "Hey man, he's going to be all right, just believe that. You did everything you could Nick, everything. Just like the doctors are doing everything they can right now," Warrick assured him. He wanted to wipe clean Nick's guilty conscience, knowing the Texan had done more than anyone could be expected to, but he also tried to provide him with hope that things would be all right.

Nick looked sceptical and Warrick continued, "Greg's tough, tougher than we give him credit for. From what you said he took everything Crane gave him and still fought back; he won't stop fighting. He's too damn stubborn."

"I know," Nick replied wiping his eyes, and a small smile appeared as he briefly thought of the times Greg's humor and energy had kept them all going on late nights in the lab. Sometimes he could provide a few tidbits of obscure knowledge that helped crack a case, but mostly Greg kept them all laughing and made life interesting. He hated things to be boring and worked hard to be entertaining. The brief smile of Nick's was welcome by Warrick but it quickly faded as more recent, painful memories of Greg took hold in his mind. "No, he shouldn't have to be fighting at all. There was no reason for Crane to bring him into this, it should have just been me."

Nick was clearly wallowing in guilt and Warrick wanted to help, "Nick, Crane is a psycho that needed help, who shouldn't have been allowed to get near you or Greg. More importantly man, no one blames you for any of this, and Greg won't either. It was all Crane. None of this is your fault. You gotta keep telling yourself that. There's nothing you could have done, no way you could have prevented this, and you did everything possible to deter Crane, you did more than anyone could ask."

A curt, dismissive nod was the only reply Warrick got. Nick didn't really care about his own conscience. He thought he could forgive himself easily, anyone could forgive themselves, but he wanted forgiveness from only one person. And if that person couldn't give it to him he would understand, but he mostly just wanted him to survive.

A light knock at the door drew both their attention. Nick flinched noticeably but did not jump this time; Warrick didn't comment, he knew his friend's nerves would be on end for a long time. It was Dr. Connell who appeared in the doorway, clearly not staying long.

"Hi, I thought you'd want to know, Mr. Sanders is out of surgery," the doctor said in his professional tone.

Nick bolted to full attention, "Is he going to be okay?"

"There are no guarantees at this point. He's stable but could go critical again at any time. We're watching him closely but the next 24 hours will be crucial. We'll just have to wait and see in time."

Time. It commanded the fate of all, and now the entire Las Vegas Crime lab would be praying for it to be on their side. But Nick didn't feel like waiting and praying. After hearing this news he suddenly pulled the IV out of his arm, uncaring of the pain or his need for it, and swung out of the bed. Warrick was so surprised he couldn't react until Nick was on his feet, his good arm supporting his weight against the bed frame.

"Nick what are you …"

"You can't get up yet, you'll …"

Nick silenced both protests.

"I want to see him," he demanded. His eyes and stance were solid determination, stopping Warrick and the doctor's protests.

Dr. Connell sighed and stood in Nick's path, knowing he wouldn't be able to walk past him and stay upright, "Look, I understand that you want to see your friend, but it's far too soon for you to be out of bed or for him to take visitors. He's in the most delicate stage of recovery and needs his rest."

Nick breathed hard in frustration as the doctor stood in his way and asked curtly, "Is he awake?"

"No," Dr. Connell replied, his voice calm and respectful to the trauma Nick had gone through.

"Then it doesn't matter if I'm there, does it?" Nick said, trying to one up the doctor.

"Exactly the point," Dr. Connell said, looking him straight in the eye. Nick wanted to argue but he understood what the doctor was trying to say; it would make no difference to Greg's recovery or his own if he was there with him.

In short, there was _nothing_ he could do at this point.

Nick stood silently for a moment, considering this, simmering, and then he erupted.

"Ah!" Nick screamed in frustration and spun around quickly, knocking over a serving tray with his good arm. He watched it crash to the ground and then collapsed against the bed, tears returning as he tried to fight his pain. It was hard for him to accept and he didn't think he could handle it again; Greg was in pain again, possibly dying, and just like before, he could do nothing, he was helpless. He hated this feeling and it drained what little emotional control he had regained over the last few hours of consciousness.

Almost immediately Warrick was at his side again, a comforting presence. He took Nick's good arm, "Come on Nick, get back into bed, you're exhausted."

Nick had no will to argue anymore and laid back down. Dr. Connell slowly moved closer, having backed off when Nick exploded. He quickly but efficiently replaced Nick's IV and since it was clear he was calmed down, but hurting, decided to make the best offer he could.

"Tell you what, I'm going to have a nurse bring you something to eat then I want you to get a few hours sleep. After that, if _I_ think you're up to it, I'll get an orderly to come down with a wheelchair and you can go see your friend, but it'll probably be through viewing glass."

Nick sighed in relief and nodded, "Okay, that's fine, thanks and … I'm sorry."

"No problem, the nurse'll be right in," Dr. Connell assured them both and then left to finish his rounds.

Warrick watched Nick try to calm down without success and sighed, "Nick, you gotta let this go. It's not your fault."

But Nick shook his head, unable to believe, "I caused this, I caused it all. I was the one Crane was after, I was the one he wanted to impress and Greg got hurt."

"By Crane. He's the one who hurt him," Warrick pointed out, trying to make Nick understand. But the other CSI turned to him slowly, eyes almost dead.

"And by me. Worse by me. Crane only managed to hurt Greg's body, he couldn't break him though, he kept fighting, he wouldn't let Crane beat him. But I … what I said. After that he … stopped fighting, I … I may have destroyed his will."

"Come on man, that's ridiculous. Greg was hurt physically, Crane stabbed him, it's not like he would have been able to heal himself or something if you hadn't done what you did," Warrick said, trying to laugh the idea off as ridiculous, but it was clear Nick believed this very seriously.

"You don't understand … Greg was fighting the whole time, he took every chance, all the pain Crane gave him and rolled with it, but he couldn't take what I did. I got him hurt and I hurt him back … I took away his will to fight and that may kill him. How do I live with that Warrick? If he dies, how do I live with knowing that? How could I ever ask him to forgive me for that?"

Nick's look was intense and it was clear he was desperate for an answer, but Warrick had none to offer. He turned away and tried to come up with some response, but was saved by the door opening, admitting a thirty-something blond nurse with a meal tray.

"Here you are Mr. Stokes, then Dr. Connell says to get some rest," she said, leaving the tray. Neither of the men responded and she did not notice the seriousness in both their expressions so she departed, completely unaware of the intense conversation she had broken up.

Nick looked at the food but made no move to touch it. Warrick shuffled, unable to come up with any words of comfort, instead he opted to get out, to escape Nick's pain and regroup.

"I'm uh, gonna go see how everyone's doing. I'll be back soon man, all right?"

Nick nodded uncommittedly but did not make eye contact or watch him leave. When Warrick reached the door he turned around and paused but Nick was still unresponsive.

"Get some rest," Warrick said and when Nick did not reply once more he quietly left, now harbouring his own guilt as he felt as though he was abandoning his friend. But Nick did need to rest and even though he probably wouldn't sleep again he would at least have time to deal with his own emotions and maybe come to realize that this indeed was not his fault.

Once he was in the hall Warrick didn't make it much further. Confused and unsure, he headed straight for the nearest wall and leaned against it, closed his eyes and tried to think.

"That was some pretty tough stuff in there."

Warrick jumped at the voice, much like Nick had been doing but relaxed when he saw it was Brass. Apparently the cop hadn't made it far from the room either and came to stand next to the CSI.

"Geez Brass, what they went through. I mean, I've seen some disturbing things in my day but … they … they were tortured. There's … there's no other way to say it," Warrick said reluctantly, clearly not liking or wanting to accept the fact.

"Yeah, all those crime scenes, sometimes they start to meld together. You never think it could happen to someone you know," Brass added.

Warrick huffed and studied the floor, "It already happened to someone I know, I just didn't think it would happen again." He said, his long time mentor and his deceased daughter now in his mind.

Brass nodded in sympathy as he remembered the case that had affected Warrick so badly, "Right. Yeah, I almost forgot. Sorry."

"Nah, forget about it, old Vegas." A pause. "I just can't get my head around it you know. What Crane did, to both of them, it's nuts, it was pointless, but … it's real," Warrick pointed out, confusion and grief marring his features. "It's not some neat little casefile I can just forget because it's been solved, we're all going to be hurting for a long time because of what this guy did."

"Well, people do crazy things when they're lonely and envious. Not condoning Crane's actions in any way, the bastard deserved what he got, but makes you think what desperation will drive people to do."

"Crane wasn't people, he was an animal, a totally off the wall exception to the human race," Warrick replied, dismissing Crane as being as far from humanity as possible. "What he did though, the pain he caused. I don't know how they survived it."

"Well, it sounds like they only had each other to rely on," Brass said, pushing off the wall to stand.

This seemed to strike a cord with Warrick. He looked thoughtful and didn't reply.

Brass took this as a sign to go and did just that, "I gotta get back to the precinct, write up my report, see how the evidence is coming."

"Anything to keep from sleeping, huh?" Warrick asked knowingly, but his gaze did not stray from the door to Nick's room.

"Something like that. I'll catch you around if you're still here when I drop by later," Brass said and started down the hallway. Warrick gave him a half hearted wave and let him go then stayed a few more minutes, staring, thinking and contemplating Brass's words.

_They only had each other to rely on._

That much at least was true and Warrick began to wonder if Nick had been right in thinking he had hurt Greg more than Crane had.

* * *

The window was two way, she reminded herself, meaning he could see her and she could see him, if he ever opened his eyes. 

Catherine rubbed her arms as she stood, watching, waiting. Normally she only did this with suspects, watched through the glass, waited for that moment when the suspect breaks, only here the suspect was her friend and the break she waited to see was consciousness even though the doctors explained it could be days before Greg woke up. Looking at him, that was understandable. Almost all his skin was bandaged with white gauze, covering big and small lacerations, Greg's face was more bruised than cut, one armed was laid out bare, an IV dripping fluids, the other arm was pulled to his chest in a sling. It hurt to look at him, so still, but he was alive, and he was going to stay that way, she would ensure it somehow, if only by force of will.

Catherine knew Sara was beside her, watching just as intently, feeling just as strongly but neither of them spoke. They both turned as footsteps approached behind them. It was Grissom with a doctor. Catherine read the tag: Dr. Preston.

"How's he doing?" Catherine immediately asked, knowing the doctor must be there to report on Greg.

The doctor took a breath, knowing these situations were always tense, "Please, why don't you take a seat?"

They all sat and looked expectantly.

"Well?" Sara finally demanded when the doctor did not speak right away.

"Mr. Sanders' condition is not great. Before I go into further details I have to ask if any of you know of any blood relatives he may have," Dr. Preston questioned.

Catherine and Sara shook their heads. Grissom thought a moment and replied, "He mentioned he had a Grandpa Olaf from Norway, but I don't know if he's alive or how to find him."

"Greg doesn't talk about his family much," Sara realized, but if one really thought about it, none of them did except maybe Nick or Catherine, and that was always about Lindsay.

"Well then it may be he has no blood relatives alive, or that he wants contacted in any case since he has," Dr. Preston checked his chart, "Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes listed as his emergency contacts and next of kin."

"Did you know that?" Catherine asked Gil, who looked just as surprised.

"I had no idea," Grissom replied, shrugging off the point.

"Technically I am only supposed to release details on Mr. Sanders' condition to you, Mr. Grissom, since Mr. Stokes has been admitted himself," Dr. Preston pointed out.

Grissom shook his head, "Whatever you tell me I'm just going to repeat to them anyway so you might as well tell us here."

The doctor had expected that and nodded, not put off, "That's fine. Well, Mr. Sanders is stable for now, after the transfusion we were able to fix the damage done by the stab wound. He was very lucky. No major arteries were hit or vital organs, we had to remove his appendix due to some bleeding but as you know it is not a necessary organ. Along with a great deal of bruising and lacerations the only other major injury was to his shoulder, it was dislocated and the muscles have been torn quite severely, it'll be a few weeks at least to heal."

He paused a moment and Sara leaned forward, "But he's going to be okay, right?"

Dr. Preston offered no false hope with his reply, "He's stable as I said, but even though he made it through surgery he's not completely out of the woods. His body is very weak, vulnerable from the long term strain placed on him and his wounds weren't treated for hours in what I am guessing were very unsterile conditions because he's already showing signs of infection. We're pumping him with antibiotics but if it gets worse we may have some problems; his body isn't strong enough to survive the strain for long."

"Oh god," Catherine sighed, putting her head down, hands in her hair.

Gil placed a hand on her shoulder then turned to the doctor, "I'm sure you're doing all you can, thank you."

"It's no problem. If you have any questions or concerns a nurse can page me. For now, just be with your friend," Dr. Preston suggested as he stood to go.

Sara stood up as well and grabbed his arm, "Can we go sit with him?" she asked, wanting to somehow help Greg, if only through unconscious comfort and support.

But the doctor shook his head, "I'm sorry, we're keeping his outside exposure as limited as possible so the infection won't get worse. Maybe in a day or two if he improves."

Accepting this for now, Sara nodded and Dr. Preston took his leave. The three CSIs were left alone again, staring at the glass at their friend they could not touch. Helpless.

* * *

Hours passed and there was little change. Warrick came up and related the story of the 'Room of Horrors' to everyone, if not only so they could close the case, but so they could be prepared emotionally for how Nick and Greg may react to their experience. Their reaction was the same as his had been, amazement, pity and outrage. 

Catherine eventually had to go home to be with Lindsay but promised to return. Grissom left after a few hours, stating that there was still work to do as his excuse. He knew their cases wouldn't solve themselves but it was really only a justification to leave the well of human drama he felt trapped in. Sara agreed to spend the night, promising to call them if anything changed with Nick or Greg. Warrick also came upstairs with her since Nick was resting on doctor's orders. Little was said in those long hours, coffee was drank, and sometimes they slept but besides that there was only worry.

Sara was woken up from a light nap by the sound of activity to her left. She was immediately awake, worried it was doctors coming with bad news, but she smiled genuinely when she saw who it was.

"Nick." She got up and gently hugged her fellow CSI who had been wheeled in by an orderly, careful of his injured shoulder. He was in a wheelchair and was heavily bandaged, not quite as bad as Greg but almost. He tried to smile but it felt wrong.

"Hey Sara," he replied, returning the hug gratefully. Warrick also stood to greet him, putting a hand on his good shoulder.

"Hey man, how you feeling?"

"I'm all right," Nick replied, without thinking or meaning it. "I'll be better after I see him." His eye was drawn to the window that looked in on the next room where he knew Greg must be; he couldn't see in because the chair was so low and he slowly started to rise.

"All right, take it easy," Warrick suggested, taking his arm but also trying to brace him for the shock, "Remember, he's doing good. He's still stable and improving even if he doesn't look it."

Nick ignored the comment as he concentrated on the few steps he needed to take. There was nothing wrong with his legs, but he was weak from surgery and his body ached with bruises.

Sara stood a few feet back, having seen enough of Greg's injured form, and gave Nick his space.

When he knew he was close enough Nick stopped following his own feet, and he looked up and saw Greg. The returning shock and grief that hit him was enough to cause his already wobbly knees to buckle. Even Warrick was surprised by the effect the sight had on him and he would have fallen forward if he had not caught himself with his good hand on the window sill. He stayed like that for a minute, leaned over and breathing deeply, wishing this wasn't true. Looking up again confirmed that it was. Even though he was now clean and bandaged Nick thought Greg looked worse than he had. The bruises had darkened, the sling emphasized the dislocated shoulder he had paid no attention to before, the bandages covered him like a cocoon and IVs and monitors invaded his space. Worst of all was the expression as he slept; it was not peaceful or relaxed as one may hope. No, Greg's face was tight, seemingly with pain, and his brow was furrowed as if thinking too hard; there was no sign of restfulness or healing which is what perhaps disturbed Nick the most.

Suddenly Nick couldn't breathe. It hurt to look on his friend and the pain he had helped cause. He looked away again, ashamed.

"God Greg … I'm sorry," he whispered to the floor. A new comforting touch drew his attention and he saw Sara had moved beside him. She wanted to help, they all did, but he didn't want to talk about what had happened or how he was feeling or how sorry they all were, so instead he just asked what he wanted to know, "Can we go in yet?"

Sara hated that she had to shake her head, "No, he's fighting off a bad infection, the doctor wants to keep his outside exposure down."

Nick's eyes somehow seemed to sadden even more, "So he's alone in there."

"I think he knows we're here," she replied comfortingly and he gave her a shadowed smile in thanks.

There was a long silence as Nick took comfort in watching Greg's chest rise and fall and listening to the reassurance of the heart monitor beeping consistently. A monitor that wouldn't be necessary if it wasn't for him, thought Nick.

Beep … beep … beep …

"How long is Dr. Connell letting you stay?" Warrick asked softly, trying to pull Nick from his guilt-ridden thoughts.

"I'm not sure, I wasn't really listening when he was talking to me," Nick replied absently, keeping his gaze locked on Greg.

Beep ……... beep ……... beep …...

"How are you doing anyway?" Sara asked and tried not to notice when Nick flinched at the question.

"I'll be okay, worry about Greg, he needs it more," he replied, clearly still not focussing on those offering their support. It was clear he did not want to answer their questions and they got the idea and lapsed into silence.

Beep ………... Beep ………….. Beep …………..

They still watched Nick though, and as he stood silently they saw his features slowly change from withdrawn to very worried, causing Sara and Warrick to move in slightly closer.

"Nick, what's wrong?" Warrick asked, on guard in case Nick suddenly collapsed or did something drastic again.

Beep …………... Beep ……………... Beep …….……...

"Greg, something's wrong, his heart's slowing down," Nick announced.

Beep ………………………….

"He's not breathing!" Sara shouted, hoping to draw someone's attention. Warrick was already moving out of the room in an attempt to find someone when doctors and nurses suddenly appeared in the room by Greg's side and started working to keep the young man alive.

"What's wrong with him?" Nick asked, eyes more focussed than ever on the scene in front of him.

"I don't know … but the doctor said his body may be too weak to handle the strain of the infection," Sara reported dismally as they watched the doctors check the monitors and prepare the crash cart but they could hear nothing of the diagnosis. Along with being airtight the window was also soundproof. The three friends waited with baited breath to see if the heart monitor would spring to life once more, but just as the doctors were charging up the paddles a nurse pulled a curtain over the window, cutting off their view.

"Goddammit!" Nick yelled in anger, striking the glass with his good hand. Sara and Warrick were both surprised into stillness by the outrage, and Nick stayed that way for many moments, with his clenched fist against the glass and head bowed.

"Come on Greggo, don't give up now," he muttered.

Warrick risked touching him, though he could see the Texan was pure tension, and suggested gently, "Hey, maybe you should head back downstairs man, get some rest, we'll let you know what happens."

Nick moved surprisingly fast and knocked Warrick's arm away. His eyes reflected barely controlled anger as he grit out his response, "Don't you dare try to get me to leave him." Then he turned back to the window and the subject was closed.

"All right," Warrick backed off slowly, nodding. Sara followed suit and their eyes met, reflecting their understanding; Nick needed time and space, which was what they would give him.

A few more minutes passed with awful silence until finally Dr. Preston returned to talk to them. Nick nearly lunged at the man.

"Is he all right? Can we see him?"

Dr. Preston put his hands up to stop their questions, "Relax, as you probably saw he did suffer temporary respiratory failure but we got him back." That said, he pointed behind the three to the window. They turned around to see the curtain being pulled back again and rushed to the window to see Greg, alive and breathing, but this time with some help.

"What happened to him?" Sara asked when the doctor came to stand behind them.

"As I mentioned before Mr. Sanders's body is terribly weak from the strain of his trauma and the following infection, it simply became too much for him to keep breathing. We've intubated him and put him on a respirator so his heart rate's back to normal for now," Dr. Preston reported trying to sound optimistic, but one of the CSIs was in no mood for optimism.

"Is he dying?" Nick asked, his voice almost sounding calm but the underlying emotional turmoil was obvious.

The doctor hesitated, "Mr. Stokes you really shouldn't be here, Dr. Connell has …"

"Is Greg dying?" Nick demanded, cutting off Dr. Preston's distraction attempts.

He sighed and shrugged, "I can't say. At this point it's really up to him."

Nick stood silent for a moment, digesting this and what it meant, and then he crumpled; collapsing into a chair behind him as his breath came in short gasps. Sara and Warrick were beside him immediately, making sure he was all right and again offering their support until it would be accepted.

This time it was.

Nick did not shake away their arms, he simply took the comfort offered.

"He's not fighting Warrick, he's just letting go like it was all pointless. Hell, it _was_ pointless. He's not fighting anymore, not after what I did. He's dying, he's dying and it's my fault," Nick mumbled as tears threatened to fall once more.

Warrick shook his head, "Nick, it's not your fault, you tried to save him, you did everything you could and more. You couldn't have known what would happen and you didn't make Crane a psychopath. It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it's not your fault."

It was clear that Warrick and Nick had established some understanding about this situation that she was not aware of, so Sara excused herself to give them room, "I'm gonna go call Cath and Grissom, let them know what's happening."

Warrick nodded in clear thanks for her departure and turned back to Nick, who hadn't looked up. He appeared lost once more in self pity and Warrick was becoming desperate to restore his faith and hope.

"Nick, please, snap out of it. He'll make it man, Greg always bounces back. He just likes to draw things out and leave us guessing until the last minute. You know him, he's got a flare for the dramatic, always holding back our results on us, making us jump for answers. He's keeping us on our toes, he's just being Greg, we almost should have expected this from him; he'll do anything to get a reaction from us."

This actually made Nick laugh because it almost sounded believable. It was something Greg would do, lead them to the wrong conclusion, leave them guessing until the last minute and then drop the bombshell of their lab results, usually surprising them all and breaking a case wide open.

Warrick was glad to see the smile on Nick's face, it looked like hope, and then more seriously, perhaps to provide faith, he added, "Greg will be all right Nick, believe that. Believe in_ him_, it's all he's ever really wanted." Nick looked slowly up at Warrick as if he had revealed the answer to Nick's life or death question and Warrick smiled back, knowing it was what Nick needed to hear, "All the work he does, he just wants us to believe in him."

Nick wiped the lone tear from his cheek and answered resolutely, strong, "Yeah, you're right. I can do that."

Warrick was glad to hear it and was about to suggest that Nick get some more rest when he suddenly got up and walked straight for the door to Greg's room. Warrick was right on his heels to stop him and Dr. Preston also stood in his way.

"Let me by, please. I have to see him," Nick pleaded, trying to get around the doctor but unable to move fast enough.

"No one is allowed in with him, least of all patients who should be resting themselves," Dr. Preston pointed out, stopping all Nick's weak attempts to get by.

Even Warrick tried to pull him back by his good shoulder, "Come on man, you heard him, let's get you back downstairs."

Nick shrugged him off, amazingly determined, "I _have_ to see him, it'll help, you have to believe me."

Dr. Preston crossed his arms unconvinced, "How?"

"It's hard to explain, it's just … the things I said … he might not have the will to keep fighting … because of me. I have to try to fix what I did, what I said," Nick stammered, unsure how to explain the certainty he felt to this stranger.

But Dr. Preston was still reluctant to move, unconvinced Nick's motives were to make Greg feel better or himself, "He can't even hear you, he's unconscious."

Nick met his eye and shrugged as if it didn't matter, "Then how can it hurt to try?"

* * *

For that the doctor had no argument. 

Another gruelling hour passed as Dr. Preston conferred with Dr. Connell about Nick's health and state of mind, debating whether letting him visit with Greg would be beneficial to either of their patients. In the end they came to the same conclusion Nick had; it couldn't hurt to try, at least for awhile. Eventually they dressed him in sterile scrubs and walked him through a disinfectant room to destroy as many germs as possible that may come in with him and then they finally allowed him to go in.

A nurse walked in with him. They moved slowly to Greg's bedside and Nick sat down heavily in the chair they had set there for him, partly from exhaustion and partly from grief at seeing Greg's weak form even closer. So much pain.

The nurse made sure he would be all right and then patted his good shoulder.

"I'll leave you alone, but I'm not far away. If you need anything just buzz," she instructed. Nick nodded and smiled briefly in thanks. She returned it and then left, closing the viewing curtains as she went to offer some more privacy; she knew how serious the younger man's injuries were and she assumed the Texan was only there to say good-bye to a dying friend, not to coax him into fighting to live.

When he was finally alone with Greg, despite the certainty he had felt that he had to be there, Nick suddenly found he didn't know what to say. He fidgeted and was silent as he watched the respirator force air into Greg's lungs – it was intrusive and seemed horrible, but it was keeping him alive. Nick laughed suddenly, it was brief and unexpected, it might have been to keep from crying.

"I'm not good at this G, you know that. You're always the conversation starter, hell, you're a conversation all itself most of the time." More silence. Another nervous laugh. "Look at the two of us, we must look like quite the pair, at least when you get out of here we can start a new fashion trend back at the lab, by the end of the week I bet all the guys will have their arms in slings."

Nick shifted again, careful of his own bandaged arm. He looked at Greg again, unmoving, expression pained, and very quickly all his nervousness left him to be replaced by a deep solemnity.

Pulling the chair closer, he leaned towards the bed, careful of the IVs and machines and pleaded his case, "Greg, I'm sorry. I know you said I shouldn't be, but how can I not? I'm the reason you're in this bed and I'm the reason you're not trying to get out of it. You're letting go Greggo – don't. Don't give up, not because of me. I'm sorry about what I did … what I said. I didn't mean any of it Greg. I'm lucky to have you for a friend, I mean that, and I'm so proud of you for what you're trying to do. It takes so much courage to set aside a good career and start fresh, and it's because you believe you can do more, that you have more to give, and you do. You have so much to give Greg, don't let it all go to waste. I … I never wanted to hurt you … believe it or not I was trying help, I was trying to protect you, it just kind of backfired on me. But Crane's dead, I ki … well, he's dead, he won't be back to hurt you or me again.

"Geez, I want you to fight Greg, I_ need_ you to fight, and it's not just for me, the whole team's here. They're watching, they're praying, and I don't think you'd let them down because they _believe_ in you._ I_ believe in you. Fight. Don't let Crane win, and if you hate me that's all right, I deserve it, but don't let what I did stop you, I'm not worth it. Fight for you, because I know you want to live. Maybe you're scared about what you'll have to face when you wake up, but it'll be all right, everyone's here for you, we'll face it together, it's not impossible. Just give me another chance Greg, please don't deny me the chance to make this right – believe in yourself Greggo, and keep fighting. Please, keep fighting."

Nick was shaking by the time he finished, exhausted from the emotional plea. Looking up he saw that Greg had not moved, the rhythm of the respirator was the same, and the beeps of the heart monitor were consistent – nothing had changed. Nick sighed, there were no guarantees that Greg had even heard him. He was too tired to try and say any more and in truth he felt there was nothing left to say, but he stayed where he was, watching, praying, hoping for any sign that Greg may improve, that he was listening to Nick's plea, but there was nothing. An hour later the nurse came back and told him his time was up, the doctors insisted he get some rest and Nick could make no objections – his words had not helped, they had changed nothing, and that returning feeling of helplessness was crushing what little hope he had left.

As the nurse slowly walked him out Nick felt such hopelessness that he could not even turn around to look once more at his friend, because he felt that if he did it would be for the last time ever and he could not bear that. As the door clicked shut behind them the lone figure in the room remained still and on the outside nothing changed.

But in his mind the shadows that had haunted him passed and his dreams began to take a much brighter turn.

TBC

How I managed to get through another entire chapter without waking Greg up or even verifying he would live for sure, I'll never know, but here it is nonetheless. I actually feel kind of bad that I didn't get around to waking Greg up, I'm sorry, I really meant to, but all these scenes came to me and demanded to be written. He will DEFINITELY, 100 for sure wake up next chapter though, and there will be lots more angst and … well … angst, but I'm sure you guys don't mind. Anyway, can't apologize enough for not waking him up yet, so I'll just do some really long reviewer thanks instead.

Sloane Miette – lol, there will be no whining or annoying to death necessary, everyone's going to live except for the "crazy, dead asshole" of course (great description) and as for the reconciliation, you gotta wait and see, but in my mind at least it looks pretty good, I just gotta try to make it as great in writing. Thanks so much for the review.

LXG-Gurl121 – No! Don't give up on my story, it's getting finished, I promise! Sorry the updates have been kind of slow, university and all, and now that the snow's gone my friends and I play ultimate Frisbee during my usual writing time and that's screwed me up too. But Greg is going to live, I couldn't stand to kill my labrat, and you're awesome for reviewing twice just to push me to update.

Aurora – I'm glad to hear you liked the tie-in's with Nick's dialogue and the description, I was worried it kind of didn't flow right, I messed around a lot with it before I posted and I still wasn't quite happy with, but it's good to know others thought it worked. And yes, the chapter title is stolen from Moulin Rouge (such a great movie). I originally had it as a line of dialogue but it sounded kind of clichéd so I took it out, but I still wanted to use it, so thus, chapter title. Very observant of you, thanks for writing.

Mellaithwen – You hate Nick? Or did I read that wrong? Anyway, I think they both deserve the hugs, maybe Greg more than Nick, but Nick's got the whole guilt thing going, I think he's earned his sympathy. I'm soooo sorry there was no conscious Greg in this chapter, I really wanted to get there but I'm a sucker for slow build up. Hope the chapter was good anyway, he WILL be awake next one, I promise and I made another long chapter to make up for my absence. Lol, I guess I should be happy you use reviewing my story as a way of procrastinating from homework, must be what makes your reviews so long. Always a pleasure to read them, especially when you somehow manage to review twice.

Higherbeingfriendsfan – Glad I surprised you with the backstory about the room, I love being unpredictable. As for what Greg thinks when he wakes up, now that is the big surprise, and to be honest, I'm not even sure how I'm going to write it yet, but I will try to think of a cool way of presenting it. Thanks for reviewing.

Kayma – You cried? No way. Anyway, Greg isn't going to die, I suppose I've left everyone in suspense long enough to admit that. And Yep, Nick did say that, but as you read, he feels pretty horrible about it. Sorry I didn't update very fast but thanks for taking the time to write.

Kenzimone – Ahhh, you made me blush. That was the sweetest review! Hmm, you bring up a good point, I'm not sure which I prefer, emotional or physical torture, both are enjoyable. Maybe it's the same, I did dedicate about as much time to the physical torture as I did to the emotional recovery after all. shrugs Oh well, I won't question, I'll just keep writing. And Yes, Greg will be quite the mess, I assure you … oh, there's going to be soo much going on in that crazy head of his.

Rozzy07 – Okay, the update wasn't very fast, I'm sorry, but I hope you enjoy this chapter despite the wait. Good to hear you liked the flashback, it was really hard for me to decide how to write it so I'm glad to know people liked it. Thanks for reviewing, each one means a lot.

LostAngel2 – lolololol, cute review. I'll take the Greg shaped cookie but it is not for eating, it is for admiring only. And as for him going five minutes without getting in trouble … no, I don't think that ever happens. From the way things are going I can't even let him go five minutes without his heart stopping. Lol, geez I'm mean. But take comfort in that he will live, as will his likeness in cookie form if I have anything to do with it. Appreciate the review.

Emmithar – Thank you for waiting so patiently, the lack of pressure to update is always nice. Lol, congrats on the right guess, you were one of the few. Hope the reactions to Nick's story were to your liking and you come back for more.

Shacky20 – Ah, my dear shacky. What hasn't been said? I honestly can't remember, so I may say some stuff again. I'm glad to hear you like the detail, sometimes I worry I use too much and everyone skips over, feels good to know people read it. I really liked that line too, it was actually one of my favourites, glad you picked it out. Ah, you're too nice, best fic ever, I'm sure. There's some really great ones out there, don't put me on a pedestal that's too high, I might not be able to live up. Well you got your Greg comfort a little in this chapter, the asking for forgiveness portion anyway, but there's lots more to come if you're still craving more. Always love your reviews and emails, keep 'em coming.

Slynn – Thanks for the review, I love your fics! Sadly, I don't review enough though, I'm sorry about that.

Thanks to Sarah (that's my roommate's name), loozy, A.H. Smith, fwe, snowbunny3, lins, and sillie for your reviews as well, I cherish each one. Thanks so much for taking the time to write, I think I got everyone, if I skipped you somehow my deepest apologies.

Well, I don't know when there will be more guys, but when there is, you'll be the first to know. And don't forget, Greg, shower, no clothes! Yes! Don't miss 4x4 whenever it airs. Laters, Goody.


	12. Reconciliations Upon Waking

Posting two chapters at once, the second of which is the epilogue. That's right, it's over, finally. Greg wakes up, there's reconciliation … well, I won't ruin too much. Few things before we continue, I'm not a Greg/Sara shipper no matter how this chapter may appear at first. Despite their scene together, the apparent shippiness is explained later and there is NO romance. Sorry, I just don't do romance. Consequently, despite how close they have become from this experience, this story is not slash, Greg and Nick are just friends. Their friendship will not develop into something it's not. Nothing against slash, I love it, but it's not here.

Anyway, that's out of the way, so enjoy the last two chapters of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Three days passed and though the change was slow, it was there. After a day the infection had become less of a worry, so much so that Nick, Sara and Catherine were allowed in to see Greg again, one at a time. After the first two nights the other CSI's had to go back to work. As much as they wanted to be there full time, life went on, though admittedly most of their hours at work were spent thinking of their injured friends, and their free hours passed at the hospital.

Nick improved slowly. He wasn't sleeping well or eating as much as he should. The doctors had hoped he would heal faster than he was, but there was little they could do; it was stress and concern that was stunting Nick's recovery and though there were pills to prescribe to help with such things, Nick refused them all. He spent as much time as they would let him in Greg's room. He watched the bruises slowly darken, hating their presence, but knowing that it was the first sign that they were starting to heal. He was reassured by watching Greg breathe, knowing he was alive, and most of all by the expression he now wore. Gone were the lines of pain and tension that had once been present, instead he looked restful and sombre, not content, but no longer hurting at least.

Sometimes he would fall asleep in the large chair by Greg's bed, lulled to sleep by the steady beep of the heart monitor and respirator. It was upon waking from one of these naps that Nick felt a horrible fear as he opened his eyes and realized he heard nothing, absolutely nothing. There were no beeps from the heart monitor, no pulses from the oxygen tank, no air rushes from the breathing tube – there was nothing.

It sounded like death.

Pushing himself up quickly, he searched for the nurse's buzzer.

"Greg," he exclaimed in panic, scared beyond reason and hoping it was only a power outage of some sort. But the lights were still on, there had to be power if the lights were on, then where were the machines? The machines that kept Greg alive.

His single fumbling hand finally found the buzzer but before he pressed down he noticed a third presence in the room and paused. Dr. Preston had come around the bed quickly when he saw Nick wake up so disturbed and tried to calm him down.

"Mr. Stokes, it's all right," he said comfortingly.

Nick wouldn't listen, "The machines, they're …"

"It's okay, calm down," Dr. Preston interrupted him. Nick looked at him, worried, but saw he was smiling and felt himself relax. "It's all right, there's no problem with Mr. Sanders, in fact he's doing much better. I turned off the heart monitor while I was taking him off the respirator, he doesn't need it anymore."

Nick's eyes widened, "Really?"

He looked to his left and it was true, Greg was breathing, deeply and easily, and on his own power.

"That's great … that's good to hear," he sat back down with a sigh, and said, more quietly, as he laid his hand on Greg's, "You're doing great Greggo, keep it up."

"He's really a lot stronger than he was, and recovering nicely," Dr. Preston reported, enjoying seeing the smile and loss of tension the news caused in Nick. He knew the other man had not been resting and therefore not getting better and hoped good news would help him recover.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Nick asked, quickly turning sombre once more as he thought about what that moment would be like.

But Dr. Preston could give him no definite answer, "There's no way to know. The swelling from the head trauma has gone down and he's getting stronger everyday, but it's up to him when he wants to rejoin the living. It could be anytime."

The doctor left shortly after and Nick was left alone with Greg once more and smiled. The removal of the respirator was a big improvement, it meant Greg was fighting and winning, that he wanted to live. Nick squeezed his hand briefly.

"Take your time G, wake up when you're ready, I'll be right here," Nick promised. He leaned back and then sat up straighter as Greg shifted as if trying to get comfortable, which was uncommon; Greg never moved. His head lolled and Nick held his breath, but it was for nothing. Greg did not wake up.

Nick sighed and leaned back again, settling in and repeating softly, "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

A few hours later he had some more company, company which was much more welcome than just the doctors he saw all day. As the end of the night shift rolled by Sara and Warrick entered the room quietly, beating their supervisors who were bogged down with paperwork. They knew Nick would be there but it was not until they were certain he was awake that they made any noise.

"Hey guys," Nick greeted them, standing up for a brief hug from each and actually showing a small semblance of a smile.

"Hey Nick," Sara replied when she pulled away, encouraged by the increased glow in the Texan's skin, "how you feeling?"

"I'm all right, arm still hurts, but check it out," he pointed behind him towards the room's official occupant whom they had all come to see.

"Look at that, respirator's gone. When'd that happen?" Warrick asked, returning Nick's hopeful smile.

"Couple of hours ago, doc says he's getting a lot stronger, could wake up any time," Nick answered.

Sara also smiled and moved closer to the bed, taking up Nick's vacated seat and reaching to hold Greg's hand, "Good work Greg, you hurry up and get better though, I'm getting really sick of this replacement they have in for you. He's not smart enough to run my evidence first, like some people."

Warrick and Nick laughed behind her, something they hadn't done in awhile, then Warrick leaned a tall bag against the wall.

The card on the side read 'Greg' and Nick pointed to it, confused, "What's in that? Doesn't look like flowers."

Warrick smirked, "Nah, that's too traditional for Greg, he'd hate that, us treating him like everyone else. It's a Pink poster, thought I'd put it up on that wall, give him something he likes to look at for when he wakes up, sort of an incentive."

This was followed by another laugh, a second for that night, a new record in recent days.

Nick hit him on the shoulder approvingly, "That's a great idea, he'll love it. I'd help put it up but I'm kind of the one armed bandit at the moment."

"I can handle it. I was gonna get some coffee first though, I'm dying for some caffeine."

"I'll come with you," Nick offered, following Warrick to the door, "I've been sitting for too long, I gotta stretch my legs. Sara, can you stay with him for a minute?"

Sara rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically, "I suppose I can find some way to survive with him alone for a little while, but only because he's unconscious." Nick didn't really laugh and she turned serious as well. "Go, I'm here with him, it'll give us time to catch up."

At this Nick smiled, nodded then left with Warrick to get some coffee a few floors down. His movements were still somewhat stiff, but he had improved in the past few days. His bruises and cuts were healing and his body didn't ache as bad, so walking wasn't as big a chore as it had been. But now with Greg definitely improving Sara thought Nick's mental state would do a one-eighty as well, which seemed to be the case. He was smiling, somewhat relaxed, and had actually just left Greg's room without anyone forcing him to. That was a big step, and she was glad to find out that both her friends seemed to be recovering.

But as she leaned forward to take Greg's hand again, she knew they weren't out of the woods yet, there was still a lot of healing to happen. She was actually glad the guys had left, it gave her a real opportunity to talk to Greg one on one, something she didn't think anyone had gotten to do except Nick. And she had a lot of things she wanted to say to the young man.

"Hey Greg, it's Sara. I hear you're doing better, that's great, must be good to get that tube out of your throat." A pause. "Why don't you wake up now Greg? You know, I understand why you would wanna stay asleep, the world probably seems scary and doesn't make a lot of sense, but you can survive it. Even if you don't feel like you can … you'd be surprised what people can survive. Even people who are close to you. They can survive and put it behind them, and turn out pretty well. Least I hope they can. And I know you will. But it's up to you, just remember, we miss you, and I know you'll be all right. You're stronger than people think and I see that, so don't you forget it."

There was another long pause. She knew it would be a few minutes before Nick and Warrick came back so she pulled the chair a little closer and slowly reached out to touch Greg's hair. She was tentative at first, but smiled as she smoothed back his bangs once or twice, noticing that the hair had grown quite flat without Greg tending to it with his assorted hair products. She'd always noticed how much time Greg spent on his appearance and in a way it had even made her start to think more about her own. The thought brought out of her a new train of thought, which she shared aloud in hopes that Greg heard her.

"There's still a lot I have to teach you, you know, about being a CSI, but not much. You learn fast Greg, you're smart, but you're also persistent. I know you've been studying and taking classes, because you know way more than you could have picked up offhand at the lab, but I also know from first hand experience that you're stubborn when you're going after something you want. I think you should know, all those times I turned you down … it's not that I wasn't flattered, and it's not that you weren't sweet or adorable, cause you were, it's just … you have so much fun Greg, you enjoy life and the truth is, I don't. I envy that in you and maybe I'm even jealous and I wasn't about to take that enjoyment away from you by bringing you down with my problems, you deserve better than that. I wasn't going to be that person who causes the first tension lines on your face or keeps you from going out on a Friday night. But I wanted to say yes, because I want what you have, freedom, in body and mind. I just couldn't risk taking it away from you in the process. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that everything I've taught you about being a CSI is nothing compared to what you've shown me about how to live life, and I really should have said this sooner, but I'm saying it now, and I hope you can hear me."

That said she leaned forward, pushed back his hair once more and placed a kiss on his temple. Greg did not move, which she had expected, not wanting to hope for too much, but she did lean back with a contented sigh, feeling better for having said what she had wanted to say for so long. She sat quietly for a minute, enjoying watching Greg breathe so easily, but eventually she started to get bored and wondered how Nick sat here all day; it was for more than just friendship, it probably had a lot to do with guilt. But an experience like Nick and Greg had would bond people together and Nick was probably having trouble letting go.

She shook her head, not liking where her thoughts were going and looked for a distraction until Nick and Warrick got back. Spotting the poster in the corner she got up to look at it. She pulled it out of the bag and unrolled it carefully, not wanting to crease it and cringed; Greg certainly had unique taste. Smiling, she shook her head as she rolled it back up but it was very soon forgotten. A sound to her left made her turn; Greg's head was lolling and he moaned as his eyes fluttered, his first signs of life in days.

"Greg? Greg, oh my god!" Sara hesitated for a moment after dropping the poster and rushing to his side. Unsure whether to touch him, speak to him or leave him to wake on his own, all she was sure to do was hit the nurse's call button. While she waited for a response she couldn't help reaching out to squeeze his hand and try to coax him into waking, "Greg, it's Sara. I'm right here, it's okay, you're doing great."

A nurse walked in, "Is everything all right?"

Sara turned, startled and almost panicked, "I think he's waking up."

"I'll try to find Dr. Preston," the nurse nodded but did not rush to leave. Though Sara was nervous and on edge, this was everyday for the nurse and she did not run down the hall, but strode patiently to locate the doctor.

Sara didn't care at the moment as she turned to see that Greg was not only shifting but his eyes were slowly opening. It was slow and unsure, the light must have been painful, but eventually he was looking at her and she found she could not speak.

Choking a little with emotion at first, she gently touched his less bruised cheek, "Hey Greg, it's Sara, we missed you. You're at the hospital, how you feeling?"

His eyes were barely lucid, there were a lot of pain meds in his system, but he did open his mouth to speak, though nothing came out but hoarseness. Sara was ready immediately; she grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table and brought the straw to his lips.

"Here, drink slowly," she instructed and he did, just taking enough to cool his throat and dropping his head back the inch he had brought it off the pillow to drink.

"Greg, can you talk to me? Are you okay?" Sara asked again when he still did not speak. He slowly looked to his left and then right, barely moving his head, for that was all he could manage.

Finally he looked at Sara and she could barely hear him ask, "Safe?"

She was not prepared for that and just looked at him, confused, "What?"

Deep emotion set into his eyes, he might have been remembering, it might have been the pain, "Before … it wasn't safe."

Tears threatened to come but Sara wouldn't let them. She shook her head and forced herself to smile as she looked Greg in the eye, "You're safe, I promise. Crane's dead, he won't be back to hurt anyone. You're safe Greg, we've all been with you the whole time. Me, Catherine, Warrick and Grissom come and see you as much as we can and Nick's here all the time, he hardly ever leaves."

Greg didn't react to everything she said, just listened. And then she said Nick's name and he flinched and looked away. She leaned over him again, trying to make eye contact.

"Greg, what's wrong? The doctor will be here in a second, okay, and Warrick and Nick are coming back. Just stay awake for me, come on," she said, trying to sound cheerful for his sake, though his reaction was worrying her.

He shook his head, not comforted by her words and turned even more.

"Not safe then," he whispered and his words were so painful she nearly cried. She stood in shock for a moment and was about to speak when a hand on her shoulder made her turn – it was Dr. Preston. He gently moved her to the side and took her place closer to Greg's head.

"Excuse me," he said absently as he took out a penlight and shone it in Greg's eyes, "Mr. Sanders, I'm Dr. Preston, I've been treating you. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Greg closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling sardonically, "You don't want to know."

Dr. Preston stood up straight at the response and was silent for a moment then seemed to remember Sara, who was watching over his shoulder.

"Can you wait in the hall for a moment, Miss? I have to do a few exams now that he's awake."

Sara was obviously reluctant but then nodded, "Yeah, sure. Greg, I'll be right outside, okay."

He did not reply or even acknowledge as she left the room; he simply stared at the wall and did not turn.

Once she was in the hallway, Sara sat down in the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, all the while trying to get the image of Greg's haunted eyes and frightened words out of her mind. What he had been through was traumatic enough, but she suddenly had a feeling that while he slept he had found little peace of mind. His words confused her and she played them over in her head. Then suddenly she was pulled from her thoughts when she heard her name being shouted down the hall.

"Sara!" Nick repeated as he and Warrick drew closer, finally getting her attention. "Why aren't you with Greg? What's going on?"

Both men clearly feared the worst due to Sara's grim expression, but she quickly plastered a fake smile on as she stood up, "The doctor made me leave. Greg woke up, he's examining him."

"Greg's … awake? That's great. I gotta see him," Nick said immediately pushing for the door. Warrick's hand stopped him.

"Easy there Nicky, if Sara got kicked out what makes you think you're allowed in there?"

Nick clearly hadn't really considered it and nodded in agreement, then silently cursed that Greg had been put in a non-windowed room; he had no way of seeing how his friend was doing.

The three could not relax in the seats in the hallway, but instead stood tensely, waiting impatiently. Nick and Warrick sipped their somewhat forgotten coffee and Sara listened as Nick rambled in disbelief.

"He's been doing really well, but I can't believe it, two days I've been sitting in there and he wakes up the second I leave the room. Go figure," he mulled.

"Maybe it's _because_ you left the room," Sara commented softly, immediately regretting it when she saw Nick had heard her and the reaction it caused in him.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," she backtracked quickly, forcing another smile.

"Sara, tell me," Nick requested, not mad but desperately curious.

"Really, it was nothing," she defended.

Then there was a long hesitation on Sara's part until Nick came up beside her and looked her in the eyes, "Please."

She shook her head, hating what she was about to say, "Look, I'm probably looking too much into this … I just … what Greg said when he woke up … I don't think he feels safe around you."

It hurt Nick to hear this, it was written on his face, but it was not a complete surprise either. He laughed sadly and sat down in a hall chair, "He doesn't trust me. That's why he wouldn't wake up when I was there, he's afraid of me."

"Nick …" Warrick began but was interrupted by the doctor's return.

"Doc, how's he doing?" Nick asked immediately.

"I'm sure you're aware he woke up briefly, unfortunately he's already fallen back to sleep, but from what I saw his reactions were good. Pupil dilation, speech, memory and movement were all just fine, I can't foresee any problems in his recovery at this point," Dr. Preston reported happily, but was surprised by the sad look in the eyes of the three, though he did not comment.

"Can we go in with him?" Warrick asked when Nick seemed unwilling to speak anymore.

"Sure, and if he wakes up again there's no need to call a nurse unless he's uncomfortable or needs anything," he instructed and then was gone.

"Thank you," Sara called out to him, but then turned to Nick who made no move to enter Greg's room. "Aren't you going in?"

Nick shook his head, "He doesn't want me in there."

"Nick, you have to explain to him what happened, it's the only way _you're_ going to get over this and the only way _he'll_ understand. And he _will_ understand _and_ forgive you, but you have to be in there to do it," Warrick advised, not pushing but laying out Nick's options for him.

Nick thought about it for a long moment, unsure what was the right thing to do for Greg. Clearly Greg didn't want him in there, but the sooner he could explain what happened, the sooner he and Greg could have some peace of mind.

After considering everything, he decided and opened the door. Sara and Warrick followed closely behind and though there was silence, there was also unspoken support.

* * *

More hours passed. Warrick and Sara had to return home eventually but were replaced by Catherine and Grissom, who both stayed for a few hours before visiting hours ended, promising to return. Greg did not stir and Nick did not speak, now worried about letting Greg know he was there.

Time passed slowly as Nick waited, no longer worried that Greg would survive, he was in the clear according to the doctors, but hoping that Greg would somehow believe him and forgive him for what he had been forced to do in an attempt to save his life.

Nick's eyes threatened to close in sleep several times, but he always fought it, determined to be there, alert, when Greg woke up. And that was precisely what happened.

Just as Nick was about to ask a nurse for another cup of coffee, he noticed Greg start to shift again. Before Nick could stand Greg's eyes opened, quicker than before, and his more lucid gaze swept the room. Nick held his breath as this happened, scared of startling him and deciding to give him a chance to wake up on his own. Greg did look around, just curiously at first, as Nick made no noise, but when he laid eyes on the other man he immediately tensed. His gaze went no further after that, it stayed on Nick and fear began to build in Greg's eyes, as if he was scared to look and scared to look away.

Nick racked his brain for something to say and after a long moment of silence could only come up with, "Hey Greggo, it's just me, take it easy. How you feeling?"

Greg swallowed and did not reply, only pushed himself up as straight as he could manage in his condition.

Looking at the floor and then around the room, becoming more nervous, Nick tried to think of something else to say, "Hey, Warrick got you a poster, what do you think?" He asked, pointing to the wall behind him.

Greg did not look, his gaze stayed fixed on Nick, studying him, taking in everything - remembering.

"Come on man, say something. Are you okay? Are you mad? Are you confused? Are you hungry … what? What's going on in your head Greg? Let me know," Nick requested, his voice sincere and honestly curious.

At this Greg finally turned away. He focussed on the floor in the other direction and closed his eyes. He appeared deep in thought, cringing and sometimes flinching as he sat silently, then finally he turned back to Nick, his eyes were still wide but now … uncertain.

Nick waited with baited breath and then finally, Greg spoke.

"Just … tell me one thing, Nick."

His voice was hoarse from lack of use and the breathing tube, but it was loud enough that Nick nearly jumped out of his chair to please his request, "Anything, whatever you want."

Greg nodded and blinked back tears as his thoughts kept running, "What was real?"

Nick couldn't say he didn't understand the question, and instead asked, "What do you remember?"

Greg laughed slightly, "That's just the problem … I don't know. In my head I see all these things that happened, but it's not clear, they change in my mind. And some of them _can't _be real and some of them _have_ to be … but I _don't want_ them to be. I know that Crane was the one who … did this, but something in my head keeps telling me … keeps telling me it was_ you_ and I don't want to believe that, but it won't go away. So just, tell me - what was real?"

Nick took a deep breath and couldn't look at Greg as he tried to think of an answer. Finally he pulled his chair closer, only slightly as he noticed Greg flinch, and explained.

"This is what's real," he began, aware he had Greg's full attention. "Nigel Crane kidnapped us and wanted to hurt you to get to me, but by the end he wanted to hurt me too. After everything else, we were both tied up and he was hurting you some more … cutting you … and I couldn't stop him. I … I couldn't do anything, I couldn't move, but I wanted to. I wanted to so bad, Greg. So I did the only thing I could think of. I made Crane believe I was his friend, to get him to stop hurting you. I said some horrible things to you Greg …"

Greg cringed and pulled back suddenly, as if this memory hurt more than that of Crane's knife. He had remembered Nick's words, they floated through his head over and over, but he had hoped somehow it wasn't real, that it hadn't happened because that betrayal hurt so much more than his physical injuries.

"Those things you said … were real?" Greg asked with utter sadness and disbelief.

"No. _No_," Nick said firmly, leaning even closer to make his point, "I _said_ them, but they _weren't real_. I didn't mean any of it Greg, but I needed to fool Crane, and I had to make it believable enough that it would fool you too or Crane would never have believed me. Ah Greg, the things I said were horrible, but none of it was true, none of it, I don't believe a word of what I said to you. You're a great friend, you're an amazing person, and you've never been a screw up, or a wannabe or an outcast – you're just a guy who works hard and likes to be unique, which I respect. And I'm proud to be your friend … to have been your friend at least. But most of all, I would never hurt you like that. I swear, I was trying to protect you, as twisted as that sounds."

Nick waited for Greg's reaction. The younger man was sitting up even straighter, listening to every word, but was also deep in thought. He looked at Nick, undecided and overwhelmed.

"What happened next?" he asked in a whisper, still unclear in his head about what followed.

Nick shook his head just thinking of the ironic events that happened afterwards, "Well, it worked, Crane believed me. He left you alone and believed that I would be his friend."

Nick paused to compose himself as the visions of death came back to him; a death he had caused.

Greg thought the silence meant he was finished and asked, "Then why did he …"

"I killed him," Nick said abruptly, cutting Greg off. Greg's eyes widened in shock at the news and the despair in Nick's eyes. "I knew he wasn't going to stop, he couldn't be reasoned with, so I killed him. I … I waited until he came close enough and I c … I cut his throat, with a shard from the mirror." He paused to breathe and watch Greg's reaction, but the labrat was just listening in shock and did not move to speak. Nick continued, first rubbing a hand over his face to destroy the evidence of tears, "After I uh, I stabbed him, I don't know, he must have wanted revenge or to get the last blow in or something … who knows how that screwed up mind of his worked? Uh, anyway … um … he stumbled away, after I stabbed him, but he didn't come after me, he stabbed you instead, because of me. I … I couldn't do anything, I just …watched. Then he stumbled across the room and … and he died … he died because I killed him. I killed him … he's dead … God, I killed a man."

The stress of the last few days really hit Nick then and the guilt he had been harbouring overpowered him. He had been tormented with the thought that Greg would not survive, and if he did, not forgive him, but even worse than that was the incredible remorse he felt for what he had been forced to do. He had taken a life and felt it in his soul. Self defence or not, no matter what the circumstances, he had killed someone, permanently. Nigel Crane's blood would forever be on his hands and he was only now beginning to realize it.

The tears flowed with the realization and Nick bowed his head as he repeated again in disbelief, "I killed a man, I killed him."

"For me."

Greg's voice was unexpected and Nick's head shot up to meet his gaze, which no longer showed any kind of fear. Instead he looked sympathetic, less tense and had shifted his position to sit closer to Nick.

"You killed him for me," Greg said again, partly to have Nick confirm it, and partly to make himself believe it, for it was unbelievable.

Nick brushed away the wetness from his face and nodded, unable to speak any more except for a weak, "Yeah."

Greg took another long moment to try and put the whole situation in perspective, to make it right in his mind. When he felt he understood what had happened, what was _real_, he leaned towards Nick and placed his good hand on Nick's shoulder to force him to make eye contact. Nick did. He was surprised but looked him right in the eye, waiting.

"Thank you Nick," Greg whispered, so sincere it threatened to crack Nick's heart with joy. Nick choked back another sob as he shook his head in disbelief.

"No Greg, thank you, thank you for fighting back. I'm so sorry this happened Greg, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry …." By now Nick had collapsed in on himself, head bowed down, forehead resting against the edge of the bed as he released everything he had been keeping pent up the past few days; the guilt, the regret, the pain, he let it all go.

Greg held back his own tears, he was exhausted himself and in pain but felt he had to be there to help Nick in his hour of need, as he had tried to help him. He put his good arm on Nick's shoulders, supportive and hopefully comforting and just stayed there as Nick let it all go.

"It's okay Nick, it'll be all right. We'll both be all right, you'll see."

Time passed and eventually both men fell asleep from physical and emotional exhaustion. They instinctively knew that even though their bodies were still scarred from their experience, their minds had begun to heal.

TBC

No, that's not the end, but the final chapter is all done, I pretty much wrote both chapters in one sitting and then decided it was too long for just one chap so split it up. Hope you guys don't mind since I posted it all at once, but I will take this time to thank my lovely reviewers.

Halina Renata – Well, I am glad you found this fic as well. I must admit, I find the Appreciation Society kind of difficult to use to find good Greg fics, they usually just have everything that even mentions Greg and I'm more about him having the starring role, but I'm thankful for them in this case. Thank you so much for your kind words, I like to try new things to keep the fic interesting and I'm glad it's working. Hope you like the ending, thanks for the review.

Whiterose01 – I think Nick did the right thing too, it just kind of backfired on him. I was also excited about the shower scene, it was short, but there are still screencaps. What I did not approve of was the lack of scars on Greg's back. What the hell happened to that little thing called a lab explosion? Someone really has to talk to those CSI people about continuity.

Kenzimone – lol, yes, dead Greg is only good for angst for so long, but getting him to death is sometimes fun, as I clearly like to play with the idea. But there is life, I couldn't kill him, I love him too much. Hope it's not 3am when you're reading this one, but if it is, go to bed, geez, it's late!

Higherbeingfriendsfan – Always love your reviews, thank you for being consistent. Hopefully my Nick/Warrick interactions lived up to what they have been, I liked them myself, though Nick felt a little wrong in places and I couldn't quite place why, but I posted anyway, I had to get this fic done. Hope you enjoyed it and like the ending.

Stormchilde – well, I woke him, but he didn't really hear Nick in that he can remember hearing him, it was kind of a subconscious thing. Did you get to see 4x4? The shower scene was way too short, but it was there, nonetheless.

Mellaithwen – You only reviewed once this time, guess you weren't as tired. Lol. You don't have to justify not liking a character to me, you can't help it, I just found it odd that you don't like Nick but you're still enjoying the story. Personally I don't like Hodges, he's mean to Greg, so we all have someone. I'll be sure to pass along the hugs to Greg, thanks for all the reviews. Oh, and conscious Greg is a lot more fun in the next chapter, he's more of his mischievous self than in this chapter. Enjoy.

Sloane Miette – I could like feel your energy in that review, it was great. Sorry there was no actual group hug, but the whole team is together in the next chapter and I rather like the scene, so it might suffice to keep you hyped up.

Loozy – Okay, first, the crying thing is the ultimate compliment, thank you so much. Second, love that you spelled naked like that, it makes me smile. And third, I thought I was the only one who really enjoyed the thumb dwiddling. Lol, hope you like the chapter, thanks for the review.

Matteic – Thank you for reviewing …. Uh, who's we? The other reviewers? Do you speak for everyone?

LostAngel2 – You uh, kinda scared me so I decided I better wake up Greg because I don't have a pony on hand. Hope that's okay. But just so you know, I killed Crane nice and goodly, he's not coming back to life, unless I do a crossover with Buffy, and I'm not! But you still get awake, great Greg.

LXG-Gurl121 – I don't get much reading time because I don't have internet right now, I go to the library to post chapters, but I really will do my best to read your fic and try to review as soon as I get these chapters posted, but I can't make any promises, sorry.

Emmithar – lol, I felt so bad for you when the chapter wouldn't come up, you sounded so panicked. Hope I emailed it not too long after your review, it's weird that it would do that, I've never heard of chapters not uploading before.

Shacky20 – I did get both your emails, sorry I haven't responded yet. To be honest, I really thought I had written as soon as I got the first one, but then you resent it and I guess I never did, sorry about that. Hope you like Greg awake and thank you soo sooo much for the kind words about my writing, it's very inspirational. And I really appreciate that you don't mind the wait between updates, but even that kind of makes me want to write a little bit faster, so you're really just all around a great reviewer. Hope you like the end of the story.

And many thanks to Kayma, Gator-girl, scifigirl, lins, sillie, Slynn, xombe, and FrodoLijactress for your reviews as well, they're greatly appreciated.

Well, this is it, I'm bowing out. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter, the epilogue, it's a little light and a little dark, and hopefully I brought enough closure for everyone without dragging it out. Enjoy, it's been a pleasure writing this fic. Goody.


	13. Little Steps

Last chapter, the epilogue. It's been fun, hope you enjoy. I'm kind of sad it's over, but I gotta move on. Oh, and I apologize in advance, I really can't write a good Sara for some reason, her dialogue feels kind of forced, but I tried my best. But at least you still have the final chapter to read of …

Painful Journeys

By Goody

Nick was officially discharged the next day. He had been well enough to go home for awhile, but because of his refusal to leave until Greg's health was ensured they had never bothered with the papers. After waking up awkwardly with his head on Greg's bed, and Greg fast asleep, still sitting up slightly, Nick decided he should leave his friend to rest without him snoring beside him. He tried to escape quietly, but yawned and stretched as he stood, waking up Greg, who had been in a light sleep.

"Morning," Nick greeted, sitting back down and smiling cautiously when he saw Greg's eyes open.

Greg returned the gesture genuinely, and replied lazily, "Hey, you leaving?"

Nick shook his head, "No, I'm here as long as you need me."

But Greg wouldn't have him and shook his head, "I have a feeling you've probably been here long enough. You should go home for awhile, get a shave and some real sleep; no offence, but you look like hell, the seventh layer of." Greg's brow furrowed when he looked at Nick's wrist and saw the hospital bracelet, "Have you even been discharged yet?"

Nick shrugged like it was no big deal, "Not exactly."

"Come on man, go home, I'm fine, you should take care of yourself," Greg implored him.

"How about I stick around until you go back to sleep?" Nick offered.

Greg laughed a little, "That's probably going to be any minute now." He lifted up his arm with the IV, "I think this thing knows when I wake up and just gives me more drugs. Damn thing doesn't even ask if I want them first …"

Greg's voice trailing off at the end was proof enough that the drugs had indeed hit him, as his eyes slowly closed and he was asleep again in seconds.

Nick thought about what Greg said and looked for a mirror, finding one in the room's bathroom. Greg was right, he looked like he'd lost a fight with a gorilla, or a psycho, which he had. He decided it would be a good time to start taking better care of himself so escaped the room quietly, was discharged, then took a cab home, getting a shower, a shave, a good meal and some decent clothes. He had hesitated at the door. He was still jumpy and nervous, especially when he was alone, but it wasn't hard to keep reminding himself that Crane was dead (especially since he was the one who had killed him) so there was nothing to be afraid of.

It felt good to be clean and back in his apartment for awhile; it made him feel more like himself. But he did not stay long. He wasn't really comfortable being alone and he knew Greg wouldn't be when he woke up either. Driving his own car back to the hospital made him feel more in control though, like he was moving on, and he took pride in that.

When he came back Greg was still sleeping and he took his usual spot, but all the activity seemed to have exhausted him and he was soon asleep as well, able to rest easy and take comfort in the reconciliation that had taken place the night before.

A few hours later Greg's door opened a crack. Greg was sitting up in bed, watching TV with the sound down, a snoring Nick in the chair beside him. His pain medication had been reduced so he could stay up longer and be more lucid, which he liked despite the discomfort he was in from his many bruises and injuries. At first he tensed when he saw the door open, wary of any unexpected noises or surprises, but then he recognized Catherine's hair and motioned her in. He also indicated she should be quiet, then pointed to his sleeping companion.

Catherine nodded and came in quietly and Greg smiled to see that it was not just her, but the entire team. He motioned once again for quiet when they were in and they all seemed amused as they gathered around to watch Nick snore.

"Hey Greg, glad you're awake, you gave us all a scare. How are you feeling?" Catherine asked in a whisper as she gave him a hug.

"I'm okay, doc thinks I'll be able to leave in a few days," he answered just as quietly.

Sara pointed at Nick, seemingly debating an idea, "Do you think we should wake him up?"

Greg shook his head, smiling slightly, "No way, he watched me sleep for three days, this is my payback."

Warrick was laughing and trying to keep it quiet, "What did you do to him?"

Greg smiled proudly, "It's a game I made up."

He demonstrated by taking a straw from a pile on the side table and then leaning over to carefully balance it on Nick's wrist. He drew his arm away with a flourish and the straw stayed in place, along with about twenty others that Greg had somehow managed to balance along Nick's shoulders, arms, legs and even behind his ears.

"I've been practicing, I'm building up to trying to get them in his nose," Greg said. His voice was slightly louder than it had been and everyone laughed easily, causing Nick to wake up with a start. He quickly took in where he was and smiled.

"Hey guys … what the hell? … Greg?" Nick asked with amusement as he watched the straws fall from his limbs and onto the floor.

"I got bored," Greg said, his tone even and not really joking. This made Nick meet his eye; there was a look in Greg's gaze that he wanted to make clear now that he was more coherent, it said that they were okay, they could joke and be friends and there would be no barriers between them. It was a look Nick returned with a smile, showing they would be all right, with each other and with what had happened.

It was Sara who broke the brief moment. She cleared her throat loudly to get Nick's attention, and when he looked she made a show of scratching her ear. Nick got the idea and did the same, surprised and a little embarrassed to find a straw behind each of his ears.

Not wanting to get yelled at, Greg turned to Warrick to avoid taking the blame, "Hey, thanks for the poster, I love it. It kind of makes waking up a treat."

"That was pretty much what I was going for, I'm glad you like it," Warrick replied, happy it had made a difference.

"I'm surprised they let you keep it up," Grissom noted, not recalling ever seeing a temporary patient put up decorations before.

"Don't you think that it's been easy. I woke up and a nurse was trying to take it down. I had to take matters into my own hands, it got extreme. I had to threaten her," Greg replied dramatically.

"With what?" Catherine asked.

Greg shrugged, "I have my ways."

Nick huffed, "A bedpan." Greg looked at him in surprise, "The nurse told me on the way in, very scary."

Greg was not put down, "My ways are not everyone's ways, I've accepted that."

Everyone smiled and then Sara stepped forward, "Well, if you liked that then this should go over just as well." And handed him a small wrapped box. He took it excitedly and shook it.

"What is it?" he asked, not moving to open it, but trying to guess as he shook.

"Telling you would kind of defeat the purpose of me wrapping it, wouldn't it?" Sara asked. Greg eyed the professional looking wrapping paper and looked sceptically at Sara. She shrugged nonchalantly, knowing she was caught in her lie. "Okay, it would defeat the purpose of the store clerk wrapping it, happy?"

"Yes. Yes I am. Thank you," Greg said, smiling as he started to tear the paper off, which wasn't an easy task one handed. His dislocated shoulder was hurting pretty badly, but he covered it up well, not wanting his friends to be uncomfortable and also not wanting to be pumped full of meds while they were visiting. The rest of his body was sore too, ribs especially, but he was not willing to complain and just tried not to move a lot instead.

"It's from all of us," Sara added as he unwrapped. When he got to the box underneath he was surprised, but not unpleasantly. It's just, he had expected music.

"A cell phone," he declared, half a statement, half a question.

"Well, we found yours kind of … destroyed, thought you'd need a new one. State of the art, of course," Catherine commented.

"It's not like you can do field work without one," Grissom added, knowing the promise of added field hours would boost Greg's spirits, although they already seemed strangely high.

"Yeah, I guess I forgot I didn't have mine. Thanks, I love it," Greg said then quickly passed it to Warrick to rip out of the case for him so he could play with it.

"You're lucky man, I'm probably going to have to wait a week or two until mine's out of the evidence locker," Nick said, remembering how he had left his behind very early on their day from hell. He was proven wrong though as Grissom pulled a familiar object from his pocket.

"Ask and thou shall receive," he commented.

Nick was surprised but accepted the phone, "Oh, thanks Gris, that's awesome. So, the case is closed then?"

Grissom nodded, "Yep, Nigel Crane's file is officially shut. You can both move on, as far as PD's concerned it's over."

Nick nodded hesitantly, showing little emotion as he was unsure if it would be morbid that he was glad he had killed someone and would pay no consequences. The excited voice behind him didn't give him a chance to contemplate his remorse though and he turned around to watch what was happening behind him.

"Hey, it's got a camera!" Greg exclaimed, hitting buttons furiously to learn how it worked. He pointed the lens outwards, "Sara, smile."

"Don't even think about it, unless you want another broken arm," she warned, putting a hand over her face.

"You wouldn't dare, I'm practically a cripple," he replied, not lowering the phone.

She lowered her hand and her eyes narrowed in mock seriousness, "Try me."

Greg looked contemplative and then slowly lowered the phone, "All right, you win."

Sara relaxed and looked triumphant, but Greg quickly hit a few buttons to turn off the sound and flash and then snapped a picture from below. Warrick suppressed a laugh as he watched over Greg's shoulder as the sneaky labrat quickly put the phone away afterwards, leaving Sara oblivious to what had happened.

The rest of the visit passed by quickly. Everyone's spirits were up with the obvious improvement in Nick and Greg's health, both mentally and physically. The conversation was kept light, work was talked about for awhile, specifically when Nick and Greg could return. Physically they were recovering well, but Ecklie was set on waiting until they passed a psychiatric exam to ensure they were both fit for work after their traumatic ordeal. Grissom didn't mention this just yet, but knew both men would have to face it eventually. The mood remained cheerful throughout the visit, as the team was just happy to be complete once more. No one mentioned Crane or what had happened, and at this point, probably never would. It seemed an unspoken agreement had been reached to work hard to put this behind them all, as though it had never happened, which seemed fine to everyone.

As much as he was enjoying their company though, it was not long until Greg was yawning and was barely able to keep his eyes open, let alone take part in the conversation. The team took this as their cue to leave and let him get some rest, despite Greg's protests that he was fine and wanted them to stay. Nick would have none of it and ushered them out and ordered Greg to sleep. He checkmated this by leaving himself so Greg would have no distractions, and it worked; he was asleep in seconds of their departure.

The team said good-bye in the hall and left one by one until it was just Warrick and Nick.

"He seems to be doing really well," Warrick commented, "I'm guessing you guys talked."

"Yeah, last night. He didn't remember too clearly what had happened, so I told him … everything. And he … accepted it. What I did, what I said. He forgave me and he … thanked me, for trying to help him," Nick said in awe, still shocked by Greg's willingness to forgive what he had seen as such a grave betrayal.

Warrick smiled, beyond happy his friends were healing from their ordeal, "I told you he'd understand, you didn't give him enough credit."

"Just like Crane," Nick mumbled, then looked Warrick in the eye, "I guess none of us really give him enough credit."

Warrick nodded then touched Nick's good shoulder to lead him away, "Come on, I'll give you a drive home."

"Actually I drove myself, but if you want to follow I wouldn't mind some company for a few hours."

In truth, Nick yearned for the company, not looking forward to being alone any time soon. He knew he was covering it well, but he was still jumpy and paranoid every time he walked outside or entered his own home and Warrick's presence would easily distract him, keep him from being scared. His wish was granted as Warrick nodded again.

"Sure, let's go."

Nick smiled in relief as they made their way to the parking lot.

* * *

_He was alone._

_It was dark. There was glass everywhere, blood everywhere, screams in his ears, pain in his body._

_He was alone._

_Metal glinted in the darkness. Rope, pain, guns, everywhere. So dark, but he could see. So scared, but there was nothing for support, for courage. Just pain._

_He was alone. _

_Footsteps in the dark. Cellphones. Footsteps. Cellphones. Pain! Knife._

_Crane._

_Nick. _

_He was alone. _

_Dark._

"Nick!"

Greg was breathing heavily when he realized he was sitting up. He stared ahead, wondering where he was, for a moment only able to see the horrible dream. He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around quickly, nervous and tense. He saw the hand belonged to Nick, who looked worried, and Greg immediately began to relax, forcing himself to breathe and calm down.

"You okay, man?" Nick asked. He was standing, but leaned over slightly to be at Greg's eye level.

Greg saw a book discarded on the floor and guessed Nick had been reading while he slept. It seemed a thoughtful gesture of Nick just wanting to watch over him, but in truth Nick had been unable to sleep at home, especially alone in the entire house and had come back here, feeling strangely comfortable in the hospital room.

Greg tried to smile as the haunting images washed away in his mind, but he didn't quite make it, "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. Too much hospital food I guess."

Nick smiled sadly in understanding as he sat back down; they both knew what Greg had dreamt about, but neither wanted to speak about it. Enough had been said for now.

"I hear that stuff can get to you. Did you pull something? Do you need a nurse?" Nick asked, becoming concerned again when he saw the pain lines on Greg's face when he laid back down.

"No, I'm fine, I just moved too fast," Greg explained, placing his good hand over the arm that wore a sling so he wouldn't jostle it further as he moved. Nick still looked concerned so Greg decided to try and distract him. "Hey, I thought we were both gonna sport the look? What happened?"

Nick raised an eyebrow and then followed Greg's eye to his shoulder, which was no longer encased in his sling, "Oh, doc took it off a few hours ago, says I don't need to wear it as long as I'm not doing any lifting or straining myself."

Greg looked at his own sling in disdain, "What about me?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, you've got a few weeks; muscles and bone heal a lot slower than a bullet wound apparently. Actually I wanted to thank you for patching me up the way you did back at that house, Dr. Connell said it was pretty much the only reason I didn't get any kind of infection like you," Nick said thankfully.

Greg brushed him off, "No big deal, I didn't have anything better to do." Then he became serious, "Besides, that's what we do isn't it? We help each other."

Nick smiled almost sadly and nodded, "Yeah, yeah we do."

A pause as both reflected and then put it behind them.

"You should get some sleep," Nick suggested.

Greg nodded and laid back down, not having to ask if Nick would be there when he woke up.

The next day Greg was all ready to be discharged. He had healed enough to be allowed to go home as long as someone was there with him, not only to help him around the house, but also to help him cope with the mental difficulties of trying to ease back into his everyday life. Luckily for both of them Nick was recovered enough physically to be that person, and gladly agreed to stay at Greg's place to help any way he could.

When Greg woke up in his hospital bed for what would be the final time, he was not surprised that Nick was already there, but smiled when he saw he was fast asleep in the chair next to him, something Greg had not caught him doing for days. Then an idea struck him and his grin turned mischievous as he reached into the drawer of the bedside table.

Beep beep, beep beep.

Nick awoke with a start and had to grab the arms of the chair to keep from toppling out of it.

"Wha …" he asked sleepily as he fumbled to open his phone as quickly as possible as the ring continued beeping. He hit talk and brought it to his ear. Not wanting to wake Greg, he whispered, "Hello?"

"Morning."

Nick turned around when he heard Greg's voice on the other end and gave the grinning man a look of mock annoyance as he put his phone away.

"You phoned me from two feet away?" Nick questioned, already knowing what the answer would be.

Greg shrugged but did not put his phone down, "I waved but you didn't see. I also got a great pic of you sleeping. Look," he held out the phone, "just a tiny bit of drool."

"Give me that," Nick demanded, trying not to laugh as he lunged for the phone to erase the picture. He didn't question when Greg didn't try to fight as the phone was torn from his hands. Then Nick swiftly hit delete and then whooped in victory, "Ha! It's gone!" as he handed it back.

His victory was short lived and he was not encouraged when Greg looked amused instead of defeated.

"Not really, I emailed it to everyone before you woke up, night and day shift. I only had to hit like three buttons, and zip, it's gone. Don't you love technology?"

Nick looked crestfallen and then looked at the phone; it indeed had internet capabilities, "No, not really, it's too often used for evil, you little creep."

Greg flinched at the name. It wasn't a big deal, it had been said jokingly, but just the words, coming from Nick, brought back intense memories of being back in that horrible house, of the deep sense of betrayal he had felt in those moments.

The mood immediately became sombre as Nick realized too late what he had said, "Geez, Greg, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. I didn't mean that. I …"

Greg made himself smile, not willing to let these memories ruin what had been a very comfortable friendship before, "No, it's okay. You've called me worse before, and not just, you-know-when. It's cool, I want us to be cool, and not only in the obvious MTV way that I am always cool."

This thankfully made Nick smile, Greg's humor was odd but it worked, "Yeah, we're cool, no problem. So, are you ready to get out of here or what?"

"Definitely," Greg answered immediately, buzzing for a nurse so she could get a doctor who could officially let him out of this healing cage.

It took about an hour to get everything ready and signed and listen to the doctor's instructions for when they got home, but eventually Nick was finally wheeling Greg out the front doors of the hospital and into the sunlight he hadn't seen in over a week. Once they were past the doors Greg slowly stood and got out of the wheelchair, which an orderly took back inside. He stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying being outside and standing on his own two feet. It may have been a little painful but it was freeing.

Nick smiled to see him so happy but had to snap him out of his trance and nudged his good arm, "Come on, I'm parked over here."

"Yeah, I'm coming," Greg replied absently, breathing deeply as he followed Nick stiffly. Nick kept the same pace as Greg, eager to be there if Greg needed anything, but he was doing fine on his own. That is, until they rounded the corner to the parking lot.

Greg immediately froze at the sight of the lines of parked cars. It was ridiculous, he knew. This was a different parking lot, at a hospital, it was the middle of the day and it was above ground. But either way he still could not help flashing back to where their horrific journey had started, the underground parking lot of his building where Crane had abducted them. And as irrational as it seemed to even him, he felt cold terror paralyze him at the thought of going into this parking lot.

Beside him, Nick stopped when he did, and had no trouble reading the expression on his face and empathizing. He had frozen up the same way a few days ago when he pulled in to visit and had been unable to make himself even park in the lot; instead he parked on the road a block away just to avoid using the lot. But he had slowly forced himself to face his fear, to make himself believe that nothing would hurt him, and now he was ready to do the same for Greg.

"Hey man, it's all right. Just a parking lot, nothing special, nothing to worry about. _Nothing_," Nick emphasized, trying to gently coax Greg to move.

Greg looked up at Nick, trying to believe him, but was ashamed that he was still unable to move, "It's just hard … to get it out of your head."

Nick nodded, understanding, "Yeah, I know, it's all right G, the same thing happened to me. It gets better every time, trust me. You can do this, we both can, little steps okay. I'm right here, Greg. I'll always be right here."

Greg met his eye and saw the sincerity there and believed him. Nick would be there, as he had always been there, and they would both survive this, and heal, with each other's help.

Trusting Nick, Greg took a breath and then took the next step.

The end.

Ah, finished. And so ends my CSI fic. I don't know if I will do another one, I have an idea, but I also have two other fics that I am getting a lot of pressure to finish and I have to take care of those first. I hope you all enjoyed this though, I'm not exactly 100 happy with this ending, but I've never really liked any of my endings, so I'm not going to dwell on it.

Thank you to all my great reviewers for encouraging me, and to those who don't review, I hope you still enjoyed. Bye all, it's been fun, Goody.


End file.
